Not for Anything: The Marauders' Tale
by Penitent Rebel
Summary: James Potter and Sirius Black were the best of friends. This is their story. Spans the Marauders' schooldays and possibly beyond. Technically a companion piece to my "Not for Anything" series, but can easily stand alone. Rated T.
1. James: 1 September, 1971

_Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, and situations belong to J.K. Rowling._

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James: 1 September, 1971

James Potter overslept on his last morning at home. His mother, Gwendolyn, came in to wake him at her usual time, bringing a cup of tea and a small plate of buttery biscuits as she always did, but James had been so excited about going to Hogwarts he barely slept the night before, and now he couldn't force himself out of bed. Mornings were not usually traumatic at the Potter residence. Usually the promise of tea and biscuits was enough to lure him out of bed, but it would take much more than that today.

"Come on, Jamie. It's time to get up," Gwendolyn said, gently caressing his cheek. James grunted and rolled over in the bed. Gwendolyn did not give up. She put a hand on James's shoulder and began to shake him gently. "I know it's early," she said sympathetically, "but it's a big day and we don't want to miss the train."

"Uhn-uhn!" James whinged, pulling the blankets over his head. Gwendolyn pulled them back down again. James promptly pulled them up, and Gwendolyn responded by pulling them off of him completely and letting them fall to the floor. In return, James curled into a little ball and put his pillow over his head. "I'm sleeping!" He said irritably.

Gwendolyn took his pillow and dropped it on the floor. "I know you are, but now it's time to wake up."

"No!" James insisted, grabbing another pillow to throw across his face.

"Yes," Gwendolyn said, rubbing his back. She reached up to take the second pillow, but James clung to it, refusing to give it up. Only then did Gwendolyn start to sound annoyed. "If you're awake enough to fight me, you're awake enough to get out of bed," she told him. "So I want you up, bathed, dressed, and downstairs for breakfast by eight-thirty. It's eight o'clock now, so that gives you thirty minutes."

As soon as she was out the door, James reached down to the ground and pulled the blankets back up. By the time eight-thirty rolled around, he was sound asleep. At eight-forty his mother came in to check on him and sighed when she found him so obviously sleeping. "James," she said, sounding exasperated, "Do I need to get your father up here?" James did not respond, so she turned and left the room.

At eight-forty-five, James's father, Harry, came in, jerked the blankets off, lifted James bodily out of the bed and slung him, protesting loudly, across his shoulder. Harry carried his son down the stairs and into the dining room where he deposited him in his chair at the table and told him to eat his breakfast. James pushed his plate away and dropped his head onto the table.

Harry gave a small snort of laughter, but when he spoke his voice was firm. "You only have until nine and then you have to go get ready. You were already supposed to be washed and dressed. So if you don't want to eat, that's your choice, but breakfast is over at nine."

James immediately lifted his head, pulled his plate closer, and began shoveling his breakfast into his mouth. Dinner would be a long way off, he knew, and, while he was quite sure his mother would pack him plenty of food for the train ride, he didn't want to take any chances. Gwendolyn laughed, "Slow down, Jamie," she said. "You're not going to starve in the next two minutes."

James slowed his eating a little, but was still finished well before his nine o'clock deadline. He asked to be excused and darted back up the stairs. Harry and Gwendolyn were a little worried he would climb back into his bed, but they soon heard water running and knew he was washing. It wasn't long before he was downstairs again with wet hair and robes on. "Mum, have you seen my trainers?" He called as he raced around the manor looking for them.

"You left them in the parlor last night. I put them under the sofa," she called from the kitchen where, James was sure, she was making him enough sandwiches to feed a small army.

"I found them under the sofa and hid them," Harry's voice rang through the house.

"Where'd you hide them?" James asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry called.

"Dad, I need them!" James insisted.

"Then you shouldn't have left them out, should you?" Harry replied.

"Bunnie!" James called for his favorite house elf. "Bring me my trainers!"

"Bunnie, you are to do no such thing!" Harry said sternly. "James, if you can't find them in time, we'll send them to you. If you leave things lying around at Hogwarts, they'll disappear and you'll never get them back."

"But I'm not at Hogwarts!" James snapped, coming into the dining room and stomping as loudly as his bare feet would allow him to.

Harry adjusted his Daily Prophet and ignored his son. James, who was not used to being ignored, walked up to his dad and pulled down the newspaper, sticking his face close to Harry's. Identical hazel eyes met over the top of the paper. James's eyes, like his mother's, gleamed behind round-framed glasses. The corners of Harry's mouth twitched for a moment before he broke into a smile. "They're in my closet," he said.

"Thanks!" James exclaimed, running off to fetch them. It wasn't long before James was back down the stairs, this time bellowing for his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. "It's in the bathroom where you left it," Gwendolyn called, now from James's bedroom, where she was packing his trunk.

"No it isn't. I found that, too," Harry corrected.

"Where is it then?" James asked.

"Not telling," Harry said belligerently.

"I'm going to start hiding your things," James said, stomping once more into the dining room.

"If you can find any of my things where they're not supposed to be, you have my permission to hide them," Harry replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his paper.

James stomped back up the stairs to search his parents' room. "Bunnie," he whispered to the empty room and the house elf appeared with a crack just as Harry's voice came drifting up the stairs.

"And don't you dare ask one of the house elves!"

James ignored him. "Get me my copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_, and anything else of mine my dad may have hidden."

Bunnie's eyes went wide. "Master Harry says Bunnie isn't to be giving Master James his things."

"Well, I'm telling you you can," James told her. "Don't worry about getting in trouble. If he finds out, I'm the one who'll be in trouble. Not you."

Bunnie looked as though she were trying to decide. Finally, she shook her head and ran headlong into the wall with a loud thump.

"What was that?" Harry called.

"Bunnie, stop it! You don't have to punish yourself!" James told her frantically. He always hated it when she did this, and he hated it even more knowing it was his fault for making him choose between his orders and his father's. "Get out of here! And no punishing yourself!" James whispered to her as he heard Harry coming up the stairs.

"What was that?" Harry repeated the question.

"I dropped a book," James said, looking down at the ground to hide his red face. For someone who got into mischief as much as he did, he was a terrible liar.

"You're lying to me," Harry said sternly.

"It was Bunnie. I told her to get my book and she started punishing herself because she couldn't follow both our orders." James confessed, hanging his head.

"Did you tell her to stop punishing herself?" Harry asked quickly.

"Yes, and she did," James assured him. He sneaked a peak at his father's face to gauge his anger. He saw only disappointment there. His stomach tied up into knots.

"And how did that make you feel, watching her punish herself because you disobeyed me?" Harry asked.

"Guilty," James admitted, speaking so softly that Harry had to strain to hear. "I should go apologize to her."

"Yes, you certainly should, and never forget that someone who is kind to wizards but cruel to house elves is not a kind person. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his inferiors. A true man will be as kind to his house else as he is to his friends. Do you understand me?"

James drooped, if possible, even more. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Jamie," Harry said softly, slipping into his son's childhood name as he put a finger under his chin and forced him to lift his head. About five months before, on his eleventh birthday, James decided he was too old to be called "Jamie" and began insisting on "James". His mother had not yet managed to get used to it, and James was beginning to suspect she never would, but his father had dropped into the new habit quickly, forgetting only in moments of stress.

"I'm not cross with you. I know you didn't do it on purpose. This is a lesson everyone has to learn at some time. Cruelty is surprisingly easy to come by in this world, and we all have to do our part to fight it. There's never a good reason to be cruel or thoughtless."

James nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I know you are, and I don't want you worrying about it anymore. I won't have you going off to Hogwarts with a cloud over your head." Harry gave James a hug, kissing him on top of his head briefly before James barreled down the stairs to apologize to Bunnie.

Far too soon for his parents, all James's things were gathered. His trunk was waiting in the living room, and he sat on it impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

"Here's your lunch, Love," Gwendolyn said.

"What is it?" James asked, reaching out to take it.

"Sandwiches, fruit, some crisps, and chocolate frogs, but you are not to eat the chocolate frogs until you've at least had a sandwich and a piece of fruit."

"What kind of sandwiches?" James asked.

Gwendolyn smiled. "Well, I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for, so I made all your favorites," she told him.

He stood and wrapped his arms around her. "Thanks, Mum," he said.

She hugged him back. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, Jamie," she said as she kissed him on the forehead.

"I'll write you every day," James promised her.

"Everyone ready?" Harry asked, coming down the stairs with James's copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and an oddly-shaped wrapped box. "Here, have it, you cheeky monkey," he said, smiling as he handed his son the book. "I wouldn't want you to be bored on the train."

"Thanks, Dad. I promise I'll keep up with it at Hogwarts," James reported.

"See that you do," Harry said with mock sternness, ruffling James's hair."There's one more thing your mother and I wanted to give you," Harry told James, handing him the box. James opened it quickly, excited to see what was inside. It was a cat carrier, containing a small gray kitten with bright blue eyes. James recalled seeing her in the window of the pet shop and being taken with her when they went to Diagon Alley a few weeks before to get his school things.

"She's beautiful! Thanks," James said, hugging his mother and then his father in turn.

"What are you going to name her?" Gwendolyn asked.

"I don't know," James said, opening the carrier and carefully removing the kitten.

"What do you think she looks like?" Harry asked.

"Maybe I should call her Shredder," James said.

"Oh, I don't think she looks like a Shredder," Gwendolyn said, laughing as the cat began nuzzling James's neck.

"I know. I'll name her Griselda," James announced.

"After Griselda Martin?" Harry asked.

"Who else?" James asked. Griselda Martin was the Seeker for England's quidditch team.

"A fine choice," Harry said approvingly. Just then Griselda sneezed.

"I think she approves," Gwendolyn said, reaching out to scratch her back.

"Come on, you two. It's time to go." Harry said, pulling a pocket watch out of his robes and looking at it. James used to love playing with that watch: it had a eighteen different hands and told the time for each planet. For some reason, James had always been particularly interested in knowing when it was tea time on Jupiter.

Harry picked up James's trunk and made his way over to the floo. James put Griselda in her carrier and followed. Gwendolyn took a moment to check that she had a handkerchief before making her way to the floo as well. Moments later, the house was empty.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with activity as all across the platform children said goodbye to their parents and parents shouted last minute warnings and reminders. James was the picture of cool confidence as he stood with his parents, taking in the scene. Next to him, a sandy-haired boy his age was saying a tearful goodbye to his own parents. "It's not to late to change your mind, Remus," the boy's mother was saying. "You can still decide you'd rather stay home."

James turned away from them. He would not have stayed home for all the galleons in Gringott's. He would miss his parents at first, but wild hippogriffs could not have kept him from this adventure. Hogwarts would be more fun than he had ever had before. He allowed his parents to hug him briefly. "Goodbye, Love," Gwendolyn said, tears filling her eyes.

James launched himself into her arms. "Don't cry, Mum," he told her, "Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this. You have to send me loads of owls."

"I will," he promised. Then he spared another hug for his father.

"Behave yourself while you're at school," Harry said, smiling. He knew his son well enough to know there was little chance of that happening. James was pulling away slowly, not sure if they were ready to let him go. Harry fought the urge to smile at the little two-step dance James was doing, slowly drifting further and further away from them, his excitement evident on his face. "Go on, then," he told his son.

James didn't need to be told twice. He turned and practically ran to the train just as the whistle was sounding. He struggled to get his trunk up the stairs and stood by the door waving until the train began to move and his parents were out of sight; then he turned with a hopeful heart toward his new adventure.

He was surprised at how full the train was. He was in the last car before he managed to find a compartment that wasn't full or nearly so. There was one boy in it, a very sad-looking boy with curly black hair. James took a deep breath and opened the compartment door. "May I join you? Everywhere else is full," James said to the boy.

The boy looked at James and shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. James came in and put Griselda's carrier on the seat across from the boy.

"I'm James Potter," he said, holding out his hand.

"Sirius Black," the other boy said, taking James's hand and shaking it firmly. Sirius had curious gray eyes and, if James were the type of person to notice such things, he would have noticed that Sirius was very good-looking.

"Pleased to meet you," James said, smiling. Sirius only nodded. He did not smile. James took his trunk and began trying to lift it into the luggage rack. His father had lifted it so easily, but James could not manage it.

"Would you like some help?" Sirius asked.

James looked at him for a moment, torn between wanting to do it himself and wanting it to just be done. Sirius didn't wait for him to answer; he simply rose and took one of the trunk's handles. James took the other and, together, they managed to lift it.

"What've you got in here?" Sirius asked, grunting under the weight of the trunk.

James was a little embarrassed to admit he didn't know. His mother had taken care of all his packing.

No sooner had he released the words from his tongue than he lost his grip on the trunk handle and it came crashing down. The lid flew open as it hit the ground and James's clothes went flying all over the compartment. A pair of underwear landed on James's head. His face grew hot with humiliation as Sirius started to laugh - a loud, joyful laugh that made James want to join in. After only a few seconds, he did, pulling the underwear off his head. He was still snickering as he began gathering his things. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Sirius was gathering as well. They tossed his belongings into a messy pile in the trunk.

"I think this is yours," Sirius said, handing James a package wrapped in silvery paper. James opened it quickly and a note in his mother's loopy writing fell out. James read it.

_My Darling Jamie,_

_By now you're in your dormitory and have probably already made loads of new friends. I want you to be sure to share these with the other boys in your dormitory. I won't bother telling you not to eat them in bed. Just be sure to brush your teeth after. I'll send you a new batch next week. Be good._

_Love,  
Mum_

James pulled a tin out of the box and opened it to find it full of chocolate biscuits. "She makes the best biscuits!" James exclaimed, dropping the letter on the ground and handing the tin to Sirius. "Here, you want one?" James asked.

Sirius reached down and picked up the letter. "Don't you want your mum's letter?" Sirius asked.

James shrugged. He took it and tossed it into the trunk, not seeing the look of sadness that crossed Sirius's face.

"Awoo shuwoo done wanin?" James asked, his mouth full of the biscuit he had just stuffed into it.

"What was that?" Sirius asked, giving a small laugh that did not quite reach his eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want one?" James repeated once he had swallowed.

Sirius took one. "Thanks."

James dropped the tin into the trunk and flung the top down. It didn't shut. He opened the trunk and rearranged the top layer of contents. The lid still would not go down. James opened it a third time and pushed the contents as hard as he could, trying to make them fit. The lid still would not shut.

"How did she get all this in here?" James asked.

"Folding your clothes might help," Sirius suggested lightly.

"I don't want to fold them" James replied dismissively. "Come help me sit on it."

Sirius came obediently and the two boys sat on the trunk, forcing down the lid. James popped the lock and they got up. The lid was bulging, but it looked as if it would hold. "I hope we get wardrobes or something at Hogwarts. Otherwise you're going to have to hang all your clothes in the bathroom." Sirius said, reclaiming his seat.

"Maybe I could hang my pants out the window. That way I'll always know which window is mine if ever I decide to go night flying."

"Oh, do you like flying?" Sirius asked.

"I love it!" James enthused. "I'm really good, too. I'm going to try out for the quidditch team next year, and I bet you anything I make it."

"Who's your team?" Sirius asked.

"The Tinworth Tempests, what about you?"

"London Lions."

"Are you from London, then?"

"Yes, are you from Tinworth?"

"No, they're just the closest team. We live near Godric's Hollow."

The compartment opened just then and a red-haired girl came in, followed closely by a greasy black-haired boy with shifty black eyes. James disliked him instantly.

"Mind if we join you?" The girl asked. She was clearly upset.

James shook his head. "I'm James Potter, and this here's Sirius black," James said, motioning toward Sirius.

"Hello," Sirius said, giving a small wave.

"I'm Severus Snape," the new boy said, seating himself next to James. His voice grated on James's nerves.

"Lily Evans," the girl said. James looked at her; she had the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. James felt a rush go through his chest, and he startled. He felt as though he knew her, somehow, but he was sure he'd never seen her before.

"What are you staring at?" She asked, sitting down next to Sirius.

"You have beautiful eyes," James said.

Severus Snape snorted, and James turned on him in disgust.

"Is something funny?" He asked, sneering.

"You have beautiful eyes," Snape said, doing a poor imitation of James. "Who says something like that to someone you've just met?"

"So, what year are you?" Lily asked.

"First," James announced.

"Me, too," Sirius added.

"So are we," Lily said.

"Do you know anything about the sorting?" Snape asked.

Sirius and James both shook their heads.

"Where do you want to be, if you've got a choice?" Lily asked softly.

"In Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart, like my dad!" James said. Snape snorted again. "You have a problem with that?" James asked, his upper lip curling into a sneer.

"Gryffindor's fine for people like you - people who would rather be brawny than brainy," Snape replied, mirroring James's sneer.

"Where do you want to go, seeing as you're neither?" James asked. Sirius laughed.

"I'd rather be in Slytherin," Snape said, giving James a haughty look.

"Why would anyone ever want to be in Slytherin?" James asked, raising his eyebrows. "I think I'd leave." James turned to Sirius for support. "Wouldn't you?"

"All my family have been in Slytherin," Sirius said, looking nervously at the ground.

"Really?" James asked in shock. "You seemed all right."

Sirius shrugged. "Maybe I'll break tradition."

James turned to Lily, "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm muggle-born. All I know about the magical world is what Severus has told me."

"You're far too nice to be hanging around with the likes of him," James said, ignoring Snape's gasp of disbelief. "Why don't you forget about him and come be friends with us? We'll tell you everything you need to know about being a witch."

"Severus is nice!" Lily protested.

James turned to him, looking him up and down, an expression of purest disgust on his face. "Doesn't seem very nice to me."

Lily huffed. "Come on, Severus. Let's go find another compartment." She got up and stomped out of the compartment. Severus rose and left right on her heels.

"See you later, Snivellus!" Sirius called after him.

"Nice one," James said approvingly.

"What a git!" Sirius spat.

"What do you expect from someone who actually wants to be in Slytherin? Oh, sorry," James said, quickly remembering that Sirius might end up in Slytherin.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't want to be in Slytherin." Sirius wrapped his arms around himself briefly before dropping them awkwardly to his lap, where he began picking at his fingertips. "I really don't."

"Maybe you won't be. Maybe we can both be Gryffindors," James said reassuringly.

"Maybe," Sirius said softly just as his stomach growled so loudly that both boys burst into loud laughter.

"Did you bring your lunch?" James asked.

Sirius shook his head.

"You can share mine. My mum packed enough for ten people," James said, pulling out the sack she had given him. "Looks like I've got a turkey sandwich, a ham sandwich, a cheddar cheese sandwich, a bacon sandwich, and a tuna fish sandwich. Why in the world did she pack me tuna fish? I never liked that."

"I'll take it. I love tuna fish."

"Here, have it," James said, tossing the sandwich to Sirius, who reached up and caught it deftly. "So, what did you think about that girl?"

"The ginger?"

"Yes. Pretty, wasn't she?"

"Pretty enough, I suppose. I don't much like her choice of company."

"Maybe she'll move on once he's in Slytherin."

"Maybe she'll be in Slytherin, too."

"She's far too pretty to be in Slytherin. I bet she's a Gryffindor, like us." James had already decided that Sirius would be joining him in Gryffindor.

Sirius shrugged.

"I know she'll be a Gryffindor. I think I'll ask her out tonight in the common room."

"You want to ask her out?" Sirius asked, incredulous. "I don't think she'll want to go out with you."

James narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "Why wouldn't she want to go out with me? I'm smart. I'm handsome. I'm talented. I'm everything a woman could possibly want."

"Only she didn't seem too keen on you."

"Only because of her friend. Once she realizes what a git he is, she'll be begging to go out with me. You wait and see."

"Want to make a wager on that?" Sirius asked.

"What kind of a wager?"

"You like chocolate frogs?"

James nodded.

"I bet you my entire chocolate frog collection she won't go out with you."

"You're on. How long do I have to convince her?"

"Until the end of the term?"

"That should be plenty of time," James said, running his fingers through his hair confidently. "You just watch. I'll have her eating out of my hand by the end of the week"

"Do you even remember her name?"

"Sure I do. It's Lily. Lily Evans, and I'm going to marry her someday."

Sirius snorted. "If she ever marries you, I'll eat an entire venomous tentacula."

James threw the cheese sandwich at Sirius's head. Sirius reached up at the last instant and plucked it gracefully from the air. "Thanks. I was just thinking I'd like another sandwich."

"You've got good reflexes. You'd make a fair seeker."

Sirius nodded. "I know."

The two of them passed the rest of the trip pleasantly and, when the train pulled into Hogsmeade station, they climbed out together and looked up at the castle they would be calling home for the next seven years.


	2. Sirius: 1 September, 1971

_Warning for child abuse._

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Sirius: 1 September, 1971

The sun was not yet up, but Sirius Black was. He was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't shake the anxiety that had settled into his stomach. Tonight, he would be in a different bed, in a dormitory with boys he didn't know. Sirius sighed and rose. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could start packing. His mother, Walburga, had been nagging him to do it for a week, and he put it off, despite her harsh words and threats to tell his father, Orion. Sirius knew she wouldn't really tell Orion. She never did. It wasn't worth it to her to have to take care of Sirius after Orion had finished with him.

Sirius looked at the clock. It was nearly five. He turned on the light and opened his trunk. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he began putting in his clothes, folding them carefully. He didn't especially care whether or not his clothes were folded, but he knew his mother would check. She wasn't the type of person to do her son's packing herself, but she was certainly the type to care that it was done properly, if for no other reason than because she wouldn't want people to talk.

Sirius was just packing his robes when the door opened. He turned to see his little brother, Regulus, standing there in his pajamas, with Gawain, his favorite stuffed dragon in hand, rubbing his eyes sleepily against the brightness of the light.

"What are you doing up so early, Reg?" Sirius asked.

"I had to go to the loo," Regulus said. "I saw your light on, and I wanted to know what you were doing in here."

"I'm packing for school," Sirius explained.

"Oh," Regulus said, looking crestfallen. He had made it quite clear in the last few days that he did not want Sirius to go to school. Just the day before, Orion had told him to stop crying about it or he'd give him something to cry about. That temporarily stopped the waterworks.

"You should go back to bed," Sirius said.

"I'm not sleepy," Regulus said around a humongous yawn.

"You want to help me?" Sirius asked.

Regulus nodded, a smile breaking across his face. Sirius smiled back. He loved to see his little brother happy. "Can Gawain help, too?" Regulus asked.

"Of course he can. Come on in and shut the door. We don't want to wake him up."

Regulus didn't need to ask who "him" was.

Regulus stepped in and closed the door. Then he bounced over to Sirius. "What can I do?"

"You can help me sort my socks," Sirius suggested. He pulled his sock drawer out of his bureau and put it on the bed. "I always forget to match them up."

"I'm good at sock matching!" Regulus offered.

"I know you are," Sirius said, ruffling Regulus's hair. "Come sit on the bed and have at it. I have to go downstairs and get my books."

Regulus hopped onto the bed and placed Gawain gently beside him. He dove into the socks, humming to himself. When Sirius returned, he was fast asleep. Sirius took the drawer off the bed and covered Reg with a blanket, tucking Gawain carefully into his arms. Then he sat on the ground to match his own socks.

By the time Sirius finished his packing, the sun was up and he heard the distinctive sounds of his parents moving around. Sirius was sitting at his desk sketching a picture of a dragon for Reg when Walburga came in.

"Have you seen your... oh. What's he doing in here?" She asked.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got up early. He got up to use the loo and saw my light on, so he came in to see what I was doing. He helped me pack a little, but then he fell asleep."

Walburga nodded. "Are you packed?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let me see."

Sirius obediently rose and opened his trunk. She rifled through the top few levels. She apparently found nothing wrong, because she said nothing to Sirius. Instead she went over to the bed and shook Regulus.

"Get up, you lazy thing," she said, her tone harsh. Sirius looked away. He couldn't do anything to stop it.

Regulus woke up. "Good morning, Mummy," he said.

"Are you five?" She snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me 'Mummy'? It makes you sound like a baby. I want both of you downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes. Properly dressed."

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius said.

"Yes, ma'am," Regulus said softly, tears forming in his eyes. Walburga turned and strode from the room. Regulus began to cry. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," he explained.

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said. "You didn't do anything wrong. She's just..." Sirius let the rest of his sentence drop. He couldn't risk Regulus repeating anything he might say. "She doesn't mean it." Sirius said. He sat on the bed next to Regulus and elbowed him.

"Hey!" Regulus said, elbowing Sirius back.

Sirius picked up a pillow and hit Regulus with it. Regulus picked up a pillow and hit him back. In a matter of moments, there were feathers everywhere and both boys were laughing uproariously.

"What the hell is going on in here?" Orion asked, slamming into the room. The boys jumped as the door banged against the wall. They both put the pillows behind their backs, not that it wasn't patently obvious what they had been doing. They were both covered in feathers.

"Just playing," Sirius said, stepping in front of Regulus. If anyone was going to get a beating, he much preferred taking it himself over watching Regulus take it. Of course, Orion could very well decide to beat them both, but usually Sirius could convince him not to hurt Reg.

"Your mother and I did not raise you to carry on like mudbloods. If you don't stop it, I'll give you both a taste of my cane."

Regulus moved closer to Sirius.

"Yes, sir," Sirius said quickly. "It won't happen again. We promise."

Orion fixed both his boys with a glare, then left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"I thought we were for it," Regulus whispered.

"So did I," Sirius admitted. "You should go get dressed. We don't want to push it."

"What about the feathers?" Regulus asked.

"Kreacher," Sirius said out loud. A particularly ugly house elf appeared in the room with a crack.

"Kreacher, will you please clean up these feathers?" Sirius asked.

"Kreacher will do as young master wishes," Kreacher said, bowing low and muttering inaudibly.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Regulus said.

"Youngest master is very kind," Kreacher said, sparing a rare smile for Regulus.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Sirius repeated. Kreacher fixed him with a glare and set about cleaning up the feathers, muttering all the while about young master making messes.

"Go get dressed," Sirius whispered. Regulus started for the door. "Wait!" Sirius said, "You forgot Gawain."

"Gawain!" Regulus said, holding his arms out for the dragon. Sirius grabbed it off the bed and tossed it to Regulus. Regulus caught it easily.

"You're going to be a quidditch star someday," Sirius said.

"You think so?" Regulus asked.

"I know so," Sirius said sagely. "Big brothers always know these things. Now get out of here."

Regulus left, and Sirius quickly peeled out of his pajamas.

"Would you shut up already?" He snapped at Kreacher, who was still muttering.

"Kreacher lives to serve," Kreacher said, but the muttering continued.

"Just leave," Sirius said. "Finish cleaning this after I'm gone." Rembering Regulus, he added, "please".

"As young master wishes," Kreacher said nastily. Then he disappeared with a loud pop. Sirius sighed. He never did understand why Kreacher seemed to hate him so much. Sirius dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs. He stopped short before he got to the dining room and walked in slowly, holding his head high. Proper bearing was important, his mother was always telling him.

"You're late," his mother barked at him.

"I'm sorry," Sirius said. "I got held up."

"You can just go hungry then," she said dismissively. "Go get your trunk and bring it to the entry hall."

"But, Mother, it'll be hours until dinner," Sirius argued.

"Then maybe that'll teach you to be on time from now on," she said, then she turned away from him.

"But Mother," Sirius persisted. Orion stood and crossed the room and backhanded Sirius across the face hard enough to knock him to the ground.

"Do as your mother says," he shouted.

"Orion, don't!" Walburga interjected. "Think what people will say if he shows up to Hogwarts with bruises."

Sirius bit his lip, willing himself not to cry. He was quite good at taking a beating without tears, but usually he at least had a little warning, and he wasn't used to being hit in the face. It wasn't unheard of, but it didn't happen often. Sirius left the room and nearly ran over Regulus.

"What's the matter?" Regulus asked.

"Nothing," Sirius said quickly. "Mother's not letting us eat because we were late."

"But I'm hungry," Regulus whinged.

"I know. So am I. But Father's in a bad mood. You don't want to go in there right now. Let's go upstairs and call Kreacher. He'll bring us something to eat."

They did just that. Kreacher brought them both toast with bacon and eggs. Sirius's bacon was burned and his eggs were runny. His toast was also dry. Regulus didn't notice, and Sirius didn't point it out. It didn't matter. Food was food.

"You want to help me take my trunk down?" Sirius asked when they had scarfed down their fill and Kreacher had taken the empty plates back down to the kitchen.

Regulus nodded.

"You take that end. I'll get this one," Sirius said. Reg picked up the handle.

"Oof, it's heavy," Regulus said.

"It's not that heavy, you're just little" Sirius said, but when he picked up his end, he realized it was heavier than it looked. "Whoa, it _is_ heavy," he said.

"Told you," Regulus said, the slightest pout in his voice.

"You were right," Sirius said. "Can you get it, or do I need to take it?"

"I can get it," Reg said, sticking out his bottom lip defiantly.

Sirius suppressed a smile. "Shall we, then?" He began walking forward. By the time they got halfway down the hall, Regulus was grunting under the weight and breathing heavily.

"Let's rest," Sirius said. They put down the trunk and sat on it. "You're really strong, Reg," Sirius said, reaching over to tickle his brother. Regulus giggled and wriggled away, falling off the trunk with a thunk.

After a few more minutes of their tickle fight, they lifted the trunk again and carried it to the stairs. "I'll go down first," Sirius said. "You keep hold."

Regulus nodded, his face turning red from exertion. Sirius went down two stairs and Regulus suddenly yelped. Sirius felt the weight of the trunk shift as Regulus lost his hold. Sirius wasn't strong enough to hold onto it by himself. He jumped out of the way just as the trunk began an unmanned journey down the stairs. Both boys watched in horror as it thumped its way down and crashed into a pedestal with a vase that had belonged to Grandmother Black. Sirius held his breath as the pedestal fell and the vase shattered on the floor.

"Well, that's one way to get it down the stairs," Sirius whispered.

"What the hell are you boys doing?" Came Orion's voice.

They heard the stomping of Orion's approach. "You have to hide, Reg," Sirius ordered. Regulus stood frozen to the spot. "Regulus, go!" Sirius said, pushing him toward the nearest room. Regulus looked at him with fear in his eyes before turning to flee just as Orion appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at Sirius with a dangerous gleam in his cold, black eyes. Sirius swallowed hard.

"You did this?" Orion said, his voice low and venomous.

"It was an accident," Sirius said. "I lost my grip. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Get your miserable arse down here this instant, boy!" Orion ordered. Trembling, Sirius did as he was told. As soon as he was within arm's length of Orion, the old man grabbed him, jerking him into the parlor. Sirius braced himself for what he knew was coming. Orion took both of his arms and shook him until his teeth clacked together and he saw stars.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Sirius? Were you in the corner picking your nose when brains were being handed out?" He asked. Sirius wasn't sure how he was supposed to answer when his brain was being rattled around in his skull. Orion stopped shaking him. "Answer me!" Orion shouted.

"I have a brain," Sirius said, trying to sound braver than he felt. It was true, he told himself. His tutor often said Sirius was quite bright.

"Don't you contradict me!" Orion shouted, slapping Sirius across the face. Sirius grunted against the pain. Of course the old man would hit the exact same spot he'd already hit once today.

Sirius was used to this pattern. There was nothing he could do except wait for it to be over. Anything he said would make it worse. Saying nothing would make it worse. Orion would scream himself into a frenzy and then he would get his cane, and Sirius couldn't do a thing to stop it. The screaming had already begun.

"You are the stupidest boy it has ever been my displeasure to know! You think just because you're going to school you can get by with behaving like an idiot! You disgust me."

Sirius tried not to listen, tried not to hear the horrible words that were pouring out of his father's mouth, tried not to see the hate that was contorting the old man's face, but he couldn't help it. He stared resolutely at the ground and heard every awful, painful word. It was almost a relief when Orion grabbed his cane in one hand and Sirius in the other. He pushed Sirius into the sofa, leaning him over the arm, and began to hit him with the cane. Sirius squished his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from crying out. It had been years since he'd cried over a beating. He was far too stubborn. He counted the strokes, clinging to them as though they were a lifeline. Six. Fifteen. Twenty-seven.

"Orion, stop!" Sirius heard his mother's voice say. "That's enough!"

"No, it isn't, Walburga!" Orion shouted. "This is the only thing he understands. He's too stupid to be reasoned with."

"Think what people will say if he can't walk into Hogwarts under his own power," she pleaded.

There was a moment of silence. When Orion spoke, his voice was soft. "We should have just bought a dog," he said acidly. Then he walked away.

Sirius was still draped over the arm of the couch. His mother touched his back gently and helped him to rise. "I'll get you a bruise salve. Put it on right away, and it won't be too bad."

She left Sirius standing alone in the room, stamping his foot against the pain. He was breathing rapidly. The cane was on the floor where Orion must have dropped it. Sirius picked it up and briefly considered throwing it out the window. He decided that would only earn him another beating, so he hid it beneath the sofa instead. It was silly, he knew, but he felt he should do something.

Walburga came back with the bruise salve. "Go upstairs and put it on," she ordered. "Put some on your cheek, too, while you're at it. You're starting to get a little bit of a bruise there as well." She took his chin in her hand and looked at him appraisingly. "You had best behave better than this at Hogwarts. If you embarrass our family, I'll come up there and cane you myself."

Sirius jerked his head away from her and headed toward the stairs. As he passed the pedestal, he noticed that it had been righted and the vase repaired. He looked at it closely and couldn't tell it had ever been broken. He seethed at the injustice. He had just been punished for accidentally breaking something that could be repaired in an instant. He trudged up the stairs, rubbing his backside, confused by the seeming futility of the entire exercise. When he had children, he promised himself, he would never hit them. Not even if they deserved it.

Sirius shuffled to the bathroom. The door was shut, and he put his ear to it. Someone was sniffling inside. Sirius was sure his parents were both still downstairs. Sirius knocked. "Regulus?" He asked. He opened the door and stuck his head inside the bathroom. Regulus was sitting in the bathtub hugging his knees, tears streaming down his face.

"What are you doing in the bathtub?" Sirius asked.

"Crying," Regulus answered.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because you got in trouble."

"It wasn't that bad. Mother stopped him before he really got going. I'm fine."

"You have bruise salve," Regulus cried.

"It's not that bad. She just doesn't want people to talk. I'm fine. Really. Why don't you come out of the bathtub?"

Regulus shook his head stubbornly. "I don't want you to go," he said.

Sirius sighed. They had been through this exact conversation more times than he could count in the past few weeks. Sirius wanted very badly to go to Hogwarts, but he wasn't too keen on the idea of leaving Regulus behind. He hated the thought of his sweet little brother being stuck in the house with their parents. Sirius tried so hard to protect him, and he was worried about what would happen to the kid when Sirius wasn't there to do so anymore. Sirius dropped to his knees next to the bathtub. "It's only a few months until Christmas and then I'll be home. And next year, you get to come with me, and we can stay up late. All night if we want to. And no one will stop us."

"Promise?" Regulus asked.

"I do," Sirius said. "We'll rule that place. And we'll both be on the quidditch team, and we'll make the highest marks on all the tests, and Mother and Father will be so proud of us. You wait and see."

Regulus smiled. "Yeah," he said. Then his smile faded. "I wish I could go now."

"I wish you could, too," Sirius said. "But I'll send you owls every day and tell you all about what I'm learning. And that way you'll already know everything when you come and your teachers will think you're the smartest boy they've ever known."

"You think so?" Reg asked.

"I know so," Sirius said, nodding. "Come on out of the bathtub." Sirius stood and offered Regulus a hand.

"Does it still hurt?" Regulus asked, taking Sirius's proffered hand.

"Not too much," Sirius lied. In truth, his backside and thighs throbbed from the beating. And his head was beginning to pound, most likely from being shaken so hard, and he could feel his cheek swelling. He wondered if his mother could be persuaded to give him a pain potion. Maybe if he started limping.

"I'm sorry I dropped your trunk," Regulus said, his face downcast.

"It wasn't your fault," Sirius assured him. "It was too heavy. I filled it too full. Don't worry about it anymore." Sirius hugged his brother and Regulus squeezed him. "Oof! Not so hard. I can't breathe," Sirius teased. "Go on. I'm going to put this stuff on, and I don't need you in here watching."

Regulus left, shutting the door behind him. Sirius looked in the mirror. As his mother said, the faintest outline of a bruise was showing on his cheek. He slathered it with bruise salve. Then he turned his back to the mirror and lifted his robes. It wasn't a pretty sight. Angry welts crisscrossed his behind and the backs of his thighs. He winced when he saw it. It almost seemed to hurt worse now that he was looking at it. At least there was no blood, he told himself. That was something to be grateful for. He applied the bruise salve liberally. The effect was instantaneous. There would still be bruises, but it would at least be bearable. Now, if only he could get his head to stop pounding.

Sirius went down the stairs to find his mother. When he saw her, he began to limp. She played right into his hand.

"Do you need a pain potion?" She asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," Sirius assured her, continuing to limp.

"I'll get you one," she said quickly. "I don't want you limping into Hogwarts." She hurried off and Sirius grinned a very mischievous grin. She returned with several potions a moment later. "Take these," she ordered him. "Put them in your trunk. If it hurts, take another potion."

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius said, drinking the pain potion she gave him. He sighed in relief as he felt the potion numb the pain in both his backside and his head. Then he went to the bottom of the stairs where his trunk was still sitting on its side. He turned it over and put the pain potions inside. Then he dragged it to the entry hall and went up to his room to lie down until it was time to go. Without meaning to, he fell asleep.

He awoke to Regulus shaking him. "Mummy says it's time to go," Regulus said.

"You better stop calling her that, Reg. You know she doesn't like it."

"I know," Regulus said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "That's why I do it."

"Good thinking," Sirius said approvingly. He crawled out of the bed and followed Regulus down the stairs. His mother was waiting in the parlor.

"Orion, we're leaving," she called.

There was no answer.

"He's in his study. Go tell him goodbye," Walburga ordered Sirius. Sirius climbed back up the stairs and walked slowly to the study, his adrenaline pumping. He usually only went to his father's study when he was in trouble. Even though he knew he wasn't now, his stomach tied up in knots. He knocked timidly on the door.

"Come in," Orion's voice floated through the door. Sirius opened it. "What do you want?" Orion asked harshly.

"We're leaving. I came to say goodbye."

"Good riddance," Orion said.

"I love you," Sirius said.

"Sure you do," Orion said scathingly. "That's why you spend all your time deliberately infuriating me. Get out of my sight. I don't even want to look at you." Orion spun his chair around so that his back was to Sirius. Sirius shut the door softly and made his way back to the parlor.

"He doesn't want to come," Sirius reported.

"Very well. Let's go." She led the way to the front door. "Get your trunk. And try not to drop it this time."

Sirius nodded, grasping the trunk. Regulus came forward and took the other handle. "I've got it, Reg," Sirius said. "I'm going to have to handle it by myself all year. May as well start now. But thanks for offering." Sirius turned toward Walburga. "How are we getting there?"

"Your father arranged for a ministry car to come pick us up," Walburga said haughtily. It wasn't everyone who had access to ministry cars. She opened the door and looked. The car was waiting in the street. "I'm glad to see they're on time," she said. She opened the door wide. "Out you get."

Sirius dragged the trunk out the front door. As soon as he was out, the driver hopped out of the car and took the trunk from him. Sirius handed it over gladly before climbing into the back seat. It seemed roomy enough for about seven people. Regulus climbed in beside him, his face excited. Neither of them had ever been in a car before. Walburga came in and closed the door. Sirius rolled down the window.

"Put that thing up!" Walburga barked. "The wind will mess up my hair."

Sirius looked at her. She wore her hair in an elaborate coiffure with so much hair-stick potion that it was brittle to the touch and never moved when the wind blew. Sirius thought she could have stared down a cyclone and her hair wouldn't move an inch. Still, it wasn't worth it to disobey. He rolled the window up. Then he reached over and tickled Regulus. Regulus squealed and jerked away.

"Stop that this instant!" Walburga ordered. "Have you forgotten you're Blacks?"

Sirius sobered immediately before catching Reg's eye and giving his brother a wink. Reg smiled and winked back. The car began to go and before Sirius knew it, he was standing next to the platform at King's Cross Station next to a mousy-looking boy and his father.

"But, dad, why can't you just come with me onto the platform?" The boy asked.

"Peter, we've been over this," the father said sternly. "I have to get back home to your mother. She's having a bad day. You'll be fine. Just go through the barrier and get on the train. That's all there is to it. Send me an owl tonight and let me know what house you're in. I bet you're a Hufflepuff, like me." The dad smiled and gave his son a hug. Then he hurried away, leaving the boy standing there looking lost.

"If you're in Hufflepuff, I'll disown you," Walburga said to Sirius under her breath as the mousy boy disappeared through the barrier.

"Really?" Sirius asked timidly.

"I'd be tempted," she said. "But I know I don't have to worry about that. You'll be a Slytherin, and you'll make your father proud."

"He's not proud of me," Sirius said bitterly. "He wouldn't even tell me goodbye."

"He loves you," Walburga said. "He was just angry. I will never understand why you insist on pushing his buttons. I'll tell him to send you an owl tonight."

Sirius nodded. He did not for one moment believed his father loved him. He sighed, wondering what was so awful about him that his own father couldn't love him.

"Through the platform, then," Walburga said firmly, putting a hand on Sirius's back. She pushed him in the direction of the platform. Even though he had just seen the mousy boy disappear through it, he still half expected to crash. He closed his eyes just before the impact, and was surprised when it never came. He opened his eyes to find himself on a busy platform staring at a scarlet steam engine. Regulus came skipping through the platform behind him.

"Wow," Regulus exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.

Walburga came through a moment later. All down the platform, parents were hugging their children and saying goodbye. Sirius looked at his mother expectantly. "Well, don't just stand there. Get on the train," she said.

Sirius's face fell. He turned to Regulus and hugged him. "Be good, and if Father gets angry, just run and hide," Sirius warned him.

Regulus nodded and wrapped his arms around Sirius. "I'll miss you," he said.

"I'll miss you, too," Sirius replied. "You watch for my owls." Sirius turned to his mother. "Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye," she said, already distracted. "Oh, look, it's Abraxas Malfoy." She held up a hand and waved to Abraxas, then went over to say hello, leaving her children alone.

"I guess I should go," Sirius said to Regulus. "Bye. I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye," Regulus said, rushing to give Sirius one final hug. "See you at Christmas."

Sirius gave a fleeting smile and turned toward the train. Dragging his trunk behind him, he found an empty compartment. He lifted the trunk with some effort and put it in the luggage rack. Then he sat down gingerly and waited for the train to go. He was still sitting there when James Potter came in and introduced himself. Sirius liked him immediately. The excitement in his face reminded Sirius of Reg, and the two chatted easily. Sirius felt like barely ten minutes had passed when the train was pulling to a stop.

"Firs' years!" Someone was calling. "Firs' years this way!"

James and Sirius looked at one another and followed the voice. They found it in the form of the wildest-looking man either of them had ever seen. He was twice as tall as the tallest man Sirius had ever seen, and at least five times as wide as a normal man.

"Where do you reckon they found him?" James whispered.

"I don't know. He's too small to be a giant. Must have had an accident with an engorgement charm." Sirius replied.

They followed the huge man to a small fleet of boats.

"I'm Hagrid," the man told them. "I'm keeper of keys an' grounds at Hogwarts. An' it's tradition for firs' years teh get ter Hogwarts by boat. Climb in."

Sirius and James climbed into a boat with the mousy boy that Sirius saw on the platform and a sandy-haired boy.

"Hello," James said to them. "I'm James Potter, and this here's Sirius Black."

Sirius gave a brief wave and then turned back to look at their destination.

"I'm Peter Pettigrew," the mousy boy said.

"Remus Lupin," said the sandy-haired boy.

"Pleased to meet you," James told them both. "Isn't this exciting?" James asked. "I feel like I'm about to explode. I can't believe I'm really here."

"Look this way," Hagrid's booming voice called. "Yeh'll get yer firs' glimpse o' Hogwarts."

Sirius looked up and saw the castle before him, the light winking at him from hundreds of windows. Sirius smiled. It looked like an inviting place. When the boats landed, the first years clambered out and were met by a very stern-looking witch.

"I'm Professor McGonagall," she said. All eyes were upon her. She was the type of person who commanded attention. "I'm the Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor here at Hogwarts. I am also head of Gryffindor House." She began to explain about the house system and Sirius's mind wandered. He knew he was expected to be in Slytherin, but he didn't want to be. All his family had been in Slytherin. His cousins Andromeda and Narcissa were in Slytherin now. Andromeda had always been kind to Sirius, but Narcissa and their third sister, Bellatrix, were both nasty pieces of work. Sirius didn't want to do anything as they had done it.

Sirius wasn't sure which house he preferred. James seemed to be sure he'd be a Gryffindor, and Sirius had to admit he liked the thought of being believed brave, although he didn't particularly think he was. Hufflepuff was not an option; his parents would never forgive him. Perhaps he would end up in Ravenclaw. His parents probably wouldn't mind that too much, and Sirius had always been told he was smart. By everyone except his father, at least. Sirius took a deep breath as McGonagall finished talking and joined the rest of the first years following her into the Great Hall. Sirius glanced around. He saw his cousin Andromeda, and she smiled at him and waved. She was in her seventh and final year. Sirius waved back, wishing he could go hug her. He was that thankful for a friendly face.

McGonagall carried an ancient-looking hat to the front of the Hall and set it on a stool. The Hall grew quiet as a rip near the brim opened and the hat began to sing about the houses. When it fell silent, Sirius joined in the enthusiastic applause. Then McGonagall took out a parchment and called out, "Andrews, Elizabeth!"

A blonde girl went forward timidly. Sirius could tell she was muggle-born. He couldn't say how he could tell, but he always could. Something in their bearing. He never understood what the pureblood fuss was about, himself, but his mother had spent his entire life training him to see the difference. "HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat called, and Andrews, Elizabeth went to join her cheering house.

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius stepped forward and sat gingerly on the stool. He hadn't wanted to take a pain potion in front of James, so his backside and thighs were back to throbbing. He fidgeted until he found a somewhat comfortable position. McGonagall placed the hat on his head, and it fell down his face, covering his eyes and thrusting him into darkness. A voice began speaking to him. "Very difficult," the voice said. "I see intelligence, yes, and bravery, loyalty, and dedication."

"Not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin," Sirius thought.

"No, certainly not a Slytherin," the voice replied. "A Ravenclaw, perhaps, or a Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor!" Sirius thought. He hadn't meant it to be a request. He was only thinking of how much he'd like to be in the same house as James.

"Very well, then. GRYFFINDOR!" The hat said, and Sirius realized it had said the last word out loud. Sirius took a deep breath. He could hardly believe it. He was a Gryffindor. McGonagall pulled the hat off his head, and he went to the Gryffindor table. Many of his housemates began clapping him on the back enthusiastically, although he couldn't help but notice that a few of them were looking at him as though he had two heads. He looked across to the Slytherin table and saw that most of them were whispering furiously amongst themselves. Andromeda had an indecipherable expression on her face.

"Cresswell, Dirk!" McGonagall called. Cresswell, Dirk came forward and a few moments later became a Gryffindor, as did Lily Evans, the girl he and James had met on the train. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the two boys who rode in the boat with Sirius and James, became Gryffindors as well. When James's turn came, the hat barely touched his head before it declared him a Gryffindor. He practically ran to join Sirius.

"You see," he gushed. "I told you we'd both be Gryffindors. And Lily's one, too. Your chocolate frog collection is as good as mine."

"We'll see about that," Sirius said. "I still don't think she likes you too much."

Severus Snape became a Slytherin, and Sirius was glad. He wasn't sure what it was about Snape that he didn't like. There was something in the cold glitter of his black eyes that reminded Sirius of Orion.

After the sorting was over, an old man with white hair and a long white beard stood to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts, and for those of you who are returning, welcome back! I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster here. You may know me from my greatest triumph, being on a chocolate frog card. I would now like to say a few words: tuck in."

The students began to clap appreciatively as the plates before them filled with food. Sirius and James joked and laughed as they ate. Then they followed their house prefects to the Gryffindor common room, high in a tower on the seventh floor. Sirius and James found their dormitory quickly. Sirius was surprised by how tired he was, and he really wanted that pain potion. The new Gryffindors found that their trunks were already waiting for them in their dormitory. James marched in and grabbed his trunk, taking it to the bed across from the door. Sirius grabbed his and chose the bed next to James. He put his trunk at the foot of the bed and opened it. Then he let out a small laugh.

"What's so funny?" James asked, coming to look in Sirius's trunk

Sirius reached into the trunk and picked up a familiar green stuffed dragon. Regulus had given him Gawain.


	3. Peter: 1 September, 1971

Peter: 1 September, 1971

Peter Pettigrew awoke to a crash. After all these years, he didn't have to ask what the crash was. He braced himself for the sound he knew he would hear next. He closed his eyes as his mother's screams ripped through the house, followed immediately by his father's voice. Peter closed his eyes and wished he were somewhere else. He rolled over to look at the clock. It was seven in the morning. "_Couldn't she at least wait until a decent hour_?" Peter wondered to himself as he rolled out of bed and stumbled down the hall to his parents' room.

Peter stood in their doorway watching the scene unfold. His mother was screaming at the top of her voice and methodically throwing her belongings against the walls. She had been doing well lately; it had been weeks since her last meltdown. Still, Peter always knew it was too good to last. He just wondered why it had to be today of all days. Today was the day Peter would be going to Hogwarts. He knew his father would never want to leave his mother alone now. He'd probably put Peter on the Knight Bus and send him to King's Cross Station all by himself. Sometimes Peter thought she did these things on purpose.

"It's all right, Delilah," Peter's father, Emory, said. He took items from her hand, but she was picking them up more quickly than he could rescue them. Peter watched, frozen to the spot. She picked up a music box and spun, tossing it at the door. It shattered inches above Peter's head. Peter ducked, throwing his arms over his face as porcelain rained down on him.

"Peter, get out of here," Emory shouted. Peter took a step out into the hall, but he did not leave. He continued to watch, transfixed, as his mother methodically smashed her things. Finally, Emory restrained her.

"Stop, Delilah. You have to stop," he ordered. She began to sob, and Peter knew she was spent. Her knees collapsed beneath her and she fell to the ground, pulling Emory along with her.

"I just want to die!" She wailed. "Why won't you just let me die?"

Peter closed his eyes against the sound of his mother's cries. There was a time when he hated to hear her cry. There was a time when he would cry himself when he heard her say she wanted to die, but somewhere in his life, something broke in him, and now he only thought that if she wanted to die so badly, she should get on with it and let Peter and his father move forward with their lives. For six years, Peter had been trapped by his mother's private grief, and he had given her all of the energy he had to give.

Peter returned to his own room. If she was crying about wanting to die, he knew the excitement was past. Peter dressed quickly. Then he opened his trunk for the thousandth time, checking to be sure it was still packed. He had packed it weeks ago, so eager was he to go to school. Hogwarts would be his ticket out of this life, he knew. At Hogwarts, things would finally be good for him. At Hogwarts, everyone wouldn't always be too busy for him. At Hogwarts, he would be appreciated.

Emory appeared at the door. Peter already knew what he was going to say. He could tell by the look on his face.

"Your mother's having a bad day."

Peter nodded. "I noticed."

"I can't leave her."

"But, Dad, I have to go to Hogwarts!"

Emory's face was apologetic. "We'll call the Knight Bus. They'll take you to London. You won't miss the train."

"No, Dad," Peter said angrily. "All the other kids' parents will be there. You have to take me."

"Peter, your mother--"

"I don't care!" Peter shouted. "It isn't my fault she's like that. She ruins everything!"

Emory rushed into the room and closed the door. "Keep your voice down," he hissed. "You know better than to shout. You'll upset her."

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, trying to hide the pain he felt. Just once, he'd like his father to take care of him the way he took care of Delilah. Peter bit back several possible retorts before forcing out, "Please, Dad. Please come with me to London." He looked into his father's face, and their blue eyes met.

"How about if I ask Miriam to take you?" Miriam was Emory's sister. She was the one who was paying for Peter to go to Hogwarts in the first place. Emory had squandered all the family's gold on the pipe dream of someday curing Delilah.

"I don't want her to take me," Peter said harshly. "I want you to. Why can't you ever just..." Peter let the question hang between them. He wasn't sure how he was planning to finish that sentence anyway.

"Fine. I'll take you," Emory relented. "But I won't be able to stay with you. I can't leave her alone for very long when she's like this. I'll see if Miriam can sit with her."

He turned and left, probably to go to the floo and contact his sister. Peter rose and went to his mother's room. She was sleeping. Emory had given her a sleeping potion, no doubt. Peter touched her cheek. He could almost remember her being different once. He could remember a time when he sat in her lap and she smiled at him and kissed him and read him stories. He could remember sitting with her while she gardened and watching her cook. He remembered standing on her feet while she danced and feeling like he was the luckiest boy in the world because he had the nicest, most beautiful mother. But that was before she lost the baby and went mad. Now, all she seemed to do was scream or sleep or stare.

"I hate you," Peter whispered into her ear. "I wish you were dead." He wasn't sure if he meant it or not.

"Peter, what are you doing in here?" Emory whispered behind him. "Don't wake her up."

"I was just checking on her," Peter explained in his normal voice, turning to face his father. "I wanted to be sure she was all right."

"Shh," Emory warned, putting a finger to his lips, but he was smiling warmly at Peter. "She's fine, Son. She just needs a little sleep. Come on, let's get out of here and leave her to her rest."

Peter obeyed, giving his sleeping mother one last glance. She looked so peaceful like that. Emory held a hand out to him and put it on his shoulder as he walked by. "She'll miss you," Emory whispered as he shut the door. "So will I," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"I'll miss you, too," Peter said, although he wasn't entirely sure he would. He knew he wouldn't miss his mother. There wasn't enough left of her to miss.

When it came time to go, Miriam appeared, looking unhappy to be there. She and Emory stepped into the next room to talk. They both kept their voices low, but Peter could still hear every word.

"I won't be long," Emory said. "I'm just going to drop him off and come right back."

"You shouldn't have to do that. You can stay with him. He needs you. We'll be fine here," Miriam replied.

"She'll be upset if she wakes up and I'm not here," Emory explained.

"I will never understand why you don't just put her in St. Mungo's," Miriam said coldly. Peter himself had wondered the same thing, but he resented Miriam saying it. He had always liked his aunt. She was one of very few people who treated him like he mattered. His parents always carried on as though he were invisible. Yet, he felt a surge of anger toward her in moments like this. She never hid her disdain for Delilah's frailty, and Peter always felt she overstepped her bounds in saying so.

"She's my wife," Emory snapped defensively. "You don't put your wife in St. Mungo's just because she's a little blue."

"A little blue?" Miriam repeated. "Emory, she's a basket case, and she's never going to get better. Everyone can see it but you. You've put your life on hold for her long enough. You need a wife, and Peter needs a mother. A father, too, for that matter. You are neglecting your son. You're going to wake up one of these days and realize that he's all grown up and you don't even know him."

"My son is not your concern."

"My nephew is very much my concern, Emory. He deserves better than this."

"No one asked you your opinion," Emory spat, then he returned to the room where Peter stood eavesdropping and spoke curtly. "Come on, Peter, let's get you to London."

He strode toward the floo, leaving Peter to struggle with the trunk. He felt the weight lift and turned to see Miriam lifting it, a sad smile on her face. "Write to me if you need anything, Poppet," she told him.

"I will," Peter promised before following his father through the floo.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Peter's father walked just inside the door with him and said his goodbyes.

"But I don't know where the platform is," Peter said, hoping he could persuade his father to join him on the platform.

"It's between platforms nine and ten. You just walk toward the barrier, and it'll disappear. It isn't difficult. I promise. I really have to get back."

"But I don't know where platforms nine and ten are," Peter said.

"Oh for goodness sake," Emory said, sounding annoyed. "Fine, I'll go with you to the barrier." He strode forward with Peter on his heels. He stopped short next to two black-haired boys and a very sour-looking woman.

"Here we are," Emory announced. "See you at Christmas. Things will be better then. I promise."

Peter didn't believe him. He wasn't sure if Emory was lying or if he was just so stupid that he sincerely didn't realize that Delilah was never going to get better. Either way, the result was the same, and Peter had long since grown weary of broken promises.

"But Dad, why can't you just come with me onto the platform?" Peter whinged.

"Peter, we've been over this," Emory said sternly. "I have to get back home to your mother. You know she's having a bad day. You'll be fine. Just go through the barrier and get on the train. That's all there is to it. Send me an owl tonight and let me know what house you're in. I bet you're a Hufflepuff, like me."

"But Dad," Peter said again.

"No, Peter. No more of this. It's time for you to grow up."

Peter flinched at those words, and Emory immediately softened.

"I'm sorry, Pete."

Peter grimaced. He hated to be called "Pete", and he had told his father that more times than he could count.

His father continued, oblivious to Peter's annoyance. "I didn't mean that. I'm just worried about your mother, that's all. I wish I could come with you. I really do."

"Why can't you? It's only a few minutes."

"It would only take a few seconds for her to wake up and have another episode. I'm sorry, Son. I have to go. I love you, and I'll see you at Christmas." Emory pulled Peter into a brief embrace that Peter only half-heartedly returned. Then he turned and practically ran toward the door. Peter watched him go, but Emory never looked back.

Peter sighed and dragged his trunk toward the barrier. As promised, it gave way and dumped him onto Platform 9 ¾. Peter glanced up and down the platform and tried not to notice that he seemed to be the only person there without parents. Peter sighed and walked resolutely toward the train, wondering what his dad would do if he never sent a single owl. Maybe that would teach him. Peter perked up a little at the thought and then wilted once more. "_He probably wouldn't even notice_," Peter thought bitterly to himself. After all, he'd never noticed Peter before; why should he start now?

Peter consoled himself with the thought that things would be different now that he was finally going to Hogwarts. He knew in his heart of hearts that things would be different there. No one would know about his parents there, and people would like him, and he would be popular and funny and finally have friends. That thought buoyed him as he climbed onto the train.

Peter found an empty compartment and dragged his trunk inside. He was just getting settled when some bigger boys came in. "What are you doing in here?" One of them asked.

"Yeah, this is our compartment, and we don't want little rats in it," another boy added.

"I was here first," Peter told them.

"Did you hear that, Lucius? He was here first," the first boy said.

"Funny, I don't remember seeing him in here," the one called Lucius said, "and I'm a prefect, so I reckon I know what I saw and what I didn't see. Wouldn't you agree, Walden?"

The boy called Walden took Peter's trunk and tossed it out into the aisle. "Looks to me like your trunk's out there," he said, sneering at Peter. Then he grabbed Peter by the front of his robes and tossed him out as well. "Looks to me like you're out there now, too."

Lucius and Walden laughed as they shut the compartment.

"Are you all right?" A girl asked, looking at him from the compartment across the aisle.

Peter nodded, straightening his robes and looking to see who had spoken to him; it was a pretty girl with brown hair. She looked to be sixteen or seventeen. A boy who looked to be the same age was standing with her.

"Those boys are worthless," she said. "I will never understand how Lucius Malfoy got to be a prefect."

"His father probably paid the right people," the boy said.

"You know Dumbledore doesn't accept bribes," the girl retorted before turning back to Peter. "You can come to our compartment if you like."

Peter held his head up proudly and told her thank you, but no. The girl shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, "but you can join us if you change your mind. I'm Andromeda Black. This is Ted Tonks. We're seventh years."

Peter thought quickly.

"Are you a first year?" Andromeda asked. Peter nodded.

"My cousin's a first year this year. Sirius Black. He's here somewhere, but I haven't seen him yet. I probably won't until the feast. The Hogwarts Express is always a madhouse."

"Well, thanks," Peter said uncertainly. "See you."

"See you," Ted said, smiling at Peter. Peter almost changed his mind then. Maybe sitting with seventh years wouldn't be so bad. Maybe they could introduce him around school and he could be popular. He turned back to take them up on their offer, but they were snogging. Peter certainly didn't want to spend the entire train ride watching _that_. So he dragged his trunk through the train, looking for an empty compartment. In the last car, he nearly ran headlong into a boy who was likewise dragging his trunk.

"Sorry," Peter mumbled, feeling very lost. It seemed there wasn't an empty compartment anywhere, and he didn't want to ask someone he didn't know for help.

"It's all right," the boy replied. "Are you looking for a compartment?"

Peter nodded. "Everywhere down there is full." He pointed behind him.

"Everywhere that way, too," the boy said, pointing in the opposite direction.

"I suppose we could sit in by the door," Peter suggested.

The boy shrugged. "Okay," he said. "My name's Remus, by the way."

"Oh, hello. I'm Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

Peter and Remus sat on their trunks by the door, not speaking. Peter wished Remus would say something, or that he could think of something to say himself, but his shyness prevented him from doing anything besides asking the occasional question.

"What house do you want to be in?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know. You?"

"I don't know. My dad was in Hufflepuff and my mother was in Slytherin, but I don't think I'd like to be in either of those houses."

"My dad was a Gryffindor," Remus said.

"What about your mum?"

"She went to Beauxbatons."

"Oh, is she French?"

Remus nodded. "She's from Normandy."

"That must be interesting, having a French mother. Does she make you croissants?"

"Sometimes."

A stretch of silence.

"What subjects do you like best?" Peter asked.

"Maths."

"I meant magical subjects."

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose I'll have to wait and see. What about you?"

"I guess I don't really know, either."

Another long silence.

"Do you like quidditch?" Peter asked.

"I like to watch it, but I don't like to play. I hate flying."

"I like to watch it and play it. I think I'm going to try out for the team." Peter glanced at Remus to see if he had bought the lie. The truth was that Peter had never been on a broomstick in his life.

"Good luck. I hope you make it."

More silence.

Peter was just beginning to think that this would be a very long trip when a prefect came up and told them they couldn't stay by they door; they had to go into a compartment.

"But there aren't any empty compartments," Peter protested.

"Then find one that isn't empty," the prefect suggested.

"But we don't know anyone," Peter argued.

The prefect shrugged. "I can't help you with that. I just know you can't stay out here." Then she whipped her hair around and marched away.

"What do we do now?" Remus asked.

"I guess we find someone who'll let us in." He picked up his trunk and began to walk the aisle. Remus followed him. Remus intended to go back and join Andromeda and Ted, but two cars down, he found a compartment that was nearly empty. Only two people were in it: a red-haired girl and a black-haired boy. Both of them appeared to be about Peter's own age. Peter took a deep breath and opened the compartment. "Do you mind if we join you?" He asked.

"Be my guest," the girl said. "I'm Lily Evans."

"Peter Pettigrew," Peter said, coming into the compartment.

"Severus Snape," the black-haired boy said.

"Remus Lupin," Remus said.

Peter settled his trunk and sat, only to find that small talk with Lily and Severus was every bit as awkward as it had been with Remus. Eventually, he settled into looking out the window and watching the countryside go by while Severus and Lily, who had clearly known one another for some time, chatted easily. Before long, Remus joined in, and the two treated him kindly, but when Peter attempted to insert himself into the conversation with a joke about gingers, it backfired and Lily got offended. The rest of the trip was a very icy affair. When they arrived at their destination, Lily and Severus said goodbye curtly and rushed away, leaving Remus and Peter alone.

"I didn't mean to hurt her feelings," Peter explained. "It was only a joke."

Remus shrugged and made his way toward the door. Peter followed on his heels, trying to explain himself, but only succeeding in making himself sound worse and worse. He was so frustrated he could barely think straight. He never imagined that he would make such a mess of things before he ever even got off the train.

Remus and Peter climbed into a boat together to cross the lake. Two boys clambered in behind them and introduced themselves as James Potter and Sirius Black. Peter took an immediate liking to them both, but neither seemed particularly interested in him. James gushed about how excited he was to be at Hogwarts, and Sirius only stared off into the distance. Peter wanted to tell Sirius that he had met his cousin, but he couldn't find a way to work it into the conversation, so he instead ran his fingers through the water and watched as his new school grew closer and closer. The feeling of hope in his chest seemed to grow larger as the castle loomed.

At the sorting, Peter begged the hat not to put him in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. He didn't want to be like either of his parents. It tried to convince him that Slytherin was the place for him, but he was adamant, so it put him in Gryffindor instead. Remus was a Gryffindor as well but, more importantly, so were Sirius and James. Peter wasn't sure what it was, but he wanted more than anything to be friends with them. That evening, after the new Gryffindors had settled into their dormitory, Peter approached them as they sat playing Wizard's Chess in the Gryffindor common room, sharing a tin of chocolate biscuits.

"Hello," Peter said. "Do you remember me? From the boat? I'm Peter. Peter Pettigrew."

Sirius looked him up and down. "We remember you," he said simply, though not unkindly. Peter stood there, waiting for one of them to say something. They both stared at him.

"I met your cousin... on the train," Peter said quickly, hoping it would be a conversation starter.

"Which one?" Sirius asked skeptically.

"Andromeda, and her boyfriend as well. Ted. They're very nice."

"Andromeda doesn't have a boyfriend," Sirius said with a dangerous edge in his tone that Peter would have recognized were he a little more socially aware.

"Yes, she does," Peter corrected him. "They were snogging."

"You must be mistaken. If my cousin had a boyfriend, she would tell me," Sirius said coldly, turning back to the game.

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that. He knew quite well what he had seen, but there was such finality in Sirius's tone that Peter was afraid to argue with him. Instead, he stood there awkwardly, hoping one of them would say something else, or possibly even invite him to play.

"Did you want something?" Sirius finally asked.

"I... erm... well... I just... erm... well... I wanted to know if I could join you."

"It's sort of a two player game," James said gently. "But you can watch if you like."

"Can I play the winner?" Peter asked.

"Are you any good?" Sirius asked.

Peter had never played wizard's chess, but he wanted very much for these boys to think well of him. He took a deep breath before stuttering, "Erm... well... I...".

"It's not a hard question," Sirius snapped. "Either you're good or you're not. Which is it?"

"Sirius," James said, looking surprised. "You don't have to be so rude."

"I'm not being rude," Sirius replied. "Only I can see this going on for awhile, and I'm tired of being stuttered at."

A few people listening snickered.

Stung, Peter turned away from the boys and nearly plowed over Remus Lupin for the second time that day.

Remus was looking at him sympathetically. "Not very friendly, are they?" Remus asked softly.

"I only wanted to be their friend," Peter whispered. His face was burning with humiliation, and he could feel tears welling in his eyes. He had had such high hopes for Hogwarts; he had honestly believed in his heart that things would be different here, would be better here. Now he saw that things would be exactly the same, because no matter where he went, he was still only Peter, shy and invisible.

"I'll be your friend," Remus said softly.

It took a moment for Peter to register what Remus had said. He was so shocked he couldn't speak for a full minute. "Really?" He finally asked.

"Sure," Remus offered. "And I've got a Wizard's Chess set. We can go play right now if you like."

"Oh, well, I don't really know how," Peter admitted.

"Oh," Remus said. "Well, then, I'll teach you. Come on."

Remus and Peter bounded up the stairs to their dormitory and set the chessboard up on Peter's bed. They played until he was so tired he fell asleep waiting for Remus to make a move. Then they set the board on the windowsill and went to sleep. Peter was happier than he ever remembered being. For the first time in his life, he had a real friend. "_I knew things would be better here_," was Peter's last conscious thought.


	4. Remus: 1 September, 1971

Remus: 1 September, 1971

Remus Lupin was having a lovely dream. In the dream, he was in a meadow, surrounded by a peaceful wood. The sun was bright and high in the sky. A cool breeze brought the sweet smell of honeysuckle, and Remus breathed it deeply. He had been in this place before; he knew this dream, so he should have noticed the glowing yellow eyes watching him from the forest, but he never did until it was too late. He stopped to dip his hands in a crystal stream, sipping the fresh water and relishing the cold liquid in his mouth. He saw a patch of wild violets and began to pick them for his mother, gathering them into a bunch and imagining her smile when he presented them to her. She had always loved flowers.

Remus was just straightening up when he heard a twig snap behind him. He turned, far more terrified than he had any reason to be, and saw a large wolf step slowly out of the woods. The hair on the back of Remus's neck stood up, and goosebumps erupted on his arms as a shiver went down his spine. The wolf let out a low, menacing growl. Remus knew he should run, but he stood rooted to the spot, too afraid even to breathe.

As the wolf stepped closer, the world darkened in an instant. He knew without looking that the sun, so warm a moment before, had abandoned him to the clutches of the full moon. The wolf roared, the moonlight gleaming off its deadly teeth, and Remus turned to flee, scattering flowers as he went. The wolf leapt at him, pinning him to the ground as his ruined bouquet drowned in the raging rapids of the now-rushing stream. Remus tried to squeeze his eyes shut, but they would not cooperate, so he saw every detail as the wolf opened its mouth to devour him.

Remus awoke with a start. He sat straight up in his bed, his breath coming in gasps. He felt wetness at the back of his neck and brushed his sweaty hair off his forehead. He always had that dream when the moon began to wax. It was a cruel reminder that his next transformation was coming. Remus threw off his blankets, sighing. "_As if I needed to be reminded_," he thought bitterly. For as long as he could remember, his life had been dictated by the phases of the moon.

Remus shook his head, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of fear the dream always brought him. He opened his curtains and let the sunlight pour into his bedroom. It always took away his fears like nothing else could. He opened the window and listened to the chirping of the birds for a few minutes and then made his way into the hall, intending to go to the kitchen and fix himself a bowl of cereal. When he passed by his parents' room, however, he stopped short. The door was shut, but he could still hear them, and his mother had just said his name.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing, letting Remus go to Hogwarts?" she asked.

"He wants to go," Remus's father replied.

"I know, Daniel, but I can't shake the feeling that something awful is going to happen if we let him go."

Remus listened intently to their conversation. He knew well that his parents were reluctant to send him to Hogwarts. When he first received his acceptance letter, they sent Dumbledore an owl explaining that his special circumstances forbade him from attending. Two days later, Dumbledore came to their home personally and assured the three of them that every safeguard would be in place to assure that Remus could attend the school safely. After a long and tense conversation, the Lupins agreed to send Remus for a one term trial. At the end of the first term, they decided, they would make a more permanent decision.

Remus's father spoke with a heaviness in his voice that always seemed to come out when he was discussing Remus's infirmity, "Dumbledore says he'll be safe at Hogwarts, and I trust him. If he says he'll take care of Remus, he will."

"But what if he attacks someone? You know what they'll do to him."

"_What will they do to me?_" Remus wondered to himself. He was always locked in the basement during his transformations so he wouldn't attack anyone else and spread the disease that infected his blood. That had always been his parents' worst fear, and it was his as well, but he had no knowledge that fit with his mother's statement. Who was "they"?

"They'll kill him, Daniel. It's too risky. We never should have agreed to this. It's not safe, not for him or the other students. I don't think I could bear it if something happened to him. And I know I couldn't bear to look another mother in the eye if something were to happen." Remus's heart almost seemed to stop beating in his chest as his breath caught in his throat. The words echoed in his mind. "_They'll kill me._"

"He could just as easily escape here," Daniel pointed out. "We can't protect him forever. He's growing up, Charlotte. At some point, he has to learn how to take care of himself. This will be an important step for him. And besides, we've already promised him he could go. We can't very well change our minds the day he's supposed to leave. He'll be heartbroken."

Charlotte's answer was in French. She slipped into when she was distressed or angry, and sometimes used it strategically when she didn't want Daniel to understand her words. Daniel spoke very little French, but Remus spoke it fluently. When he was young, she spoke it to him almost exclusively. The two of them would sometimes have entire dinnertime conversations in French, with Daniel protesting in mock indignation all the while. Remus would laugh until his food came out of his nose as his father feigned offense and swore that one of these days he was going to suddenly start speaking French just to shock them. Remus knew it wasn't true. Daniel had tried to learn French before the Lupins were married, only to discover that he was complete pants at it. After years of listening to him butcher it, Charlotte asked him to give it up and consider it an act of mercy.

Remus loved to listen to Charlotte speak French. Her mother tongue rolled through her lips in a familiar way that English never did. Her English was flawless, and they conversed in it out of respect for Daniel when he was present, but Remus cherished those moments when it was just the two of them and they could speak French. She expressed herself so much more freely in the beloved language of her childhood.

"Mais il reste vivant," Charlotte pronounced. But he'll be alive.

"No fair, speaking French," Daniel chided, a small laugh in his voice. Remus heard them rise and start to move around, and he knew he should leave. He didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, but he wanted so badly to hear the conversation that, against his better judgment, he stayed there, his ear pressed to the door.

"I know you're worried, ma chère. I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried as well. But we always knew we'd have to let him step out on his own eventually."

"I know," she replied in slightly accented English. "But why does it have to be so soon?"

"Time and tide wait for no man."

Charlotte sighed audibly. "I'll go make sure he's awake." She opened the door suddenly, and Remus fell into the room, landing hard on his hands and knees.

"Remus, what are you doing?" Charlotte asked.

Remus rose to his feet quickly. "I was just... I was... I didn't mean..." Remus stuttered as he tried to explain his presence.

"You were listening at the door, weren't you?" Daniel asked, coming over.

Remus nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor. He hated the thought of angering his parents on his last morning at home. He stole a glance at them and found that they were not looking at him at all, but, rather, were staring intently at one another, each reviewing the conversation to try to determine how much damage has been done. Remus had seen them do this sort of thing on occasion. They had such a deep connection that sometimes Remus thought each could tell what the other way thinking, and he had seen them have entire conversations through nothing but looks and gestures. He wanted to love someone like that someday, though he was sure it would never happen. What girl would have him, him being what he was?

"I'm sorry," Remus offered.

"How much did you hear?" Daniel asked.

"Everything," Remus admitted. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was on my way to get breakfast when I heard my name. I only meant to listen for a second, but then I..."

"You don't have to explain," Charlotte told him. "It's hard not to listen when people are talking about you."

"You're not cross?" Remus asked, relief flooding into his belly.

Charlotte and Daniel both shook their heads. "No, we're not cross," Daniel said. "But you must have quite a few questions for us."

Remus hesitated a moment and then nodded slowly. Charlotte reached out and took his hand, leading him to the bed. He sat between his parents and tried to figure out how to start.

In the end, he didn't have to. As Remus struggled to make his mouth form words, Daniel took the reins.

"Remus, I wish with all of my heart that this weren't true, but the world does not look kindly upon those who are different."

Remus nodded knowingly. He had learned this lesson the hard way when he was six, and he accidentally let his condition slip to a playmate, the child of one of his father's colleagues. The child ran to her parents, terrified, and they left in a frightened rush. When they were gone, Charlotte spanked him for telling. Daniel nearly lost his job at the ministry when the colleague began telling people about Remus. Remus never had another playmate, and he never breathed a word of his secret to another soul. It wasn't worth the heartache.

Remus looked at his mother. "You said if I attack someone they'll kill me."

Charlotte let out a small, distressed "oh." She and Daniel locked eyes over Remus's head. After a few seconds of flurried nods and expressions, Daniel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeming to come to an internal decision.

"This is not the way I would have chosen for you to find out, but the ministry has very strict laws about werewolves attacking wizards. If you were to attack someone, no matter your age, the ministry would have you executed," Daniel said, as gently as he could.

"Executed," Remus repeated dully.

"It means killed," Charlotte said, running her fingers protectively through his golden hair.

"I know," Remus said.

"But you shouldn't worry about it because it's not going to happen. Dumbledore promised us he'll take every precaution to keep you and the other students safe," Daniel inserted.

"And if you are worried about it, you can always stay here," Charlotte reminded him.

"No, I want to go," Remus assured her.

"Tout sera bien," Charlotte said. Everything will be fine.

"Je sais," Remus replied. I know.

"Ne me touche pas!" Daniel said, and Charlotte and Remus both laughed. "Don't touch me," was one of the few phrases from his French lessons that Daniel recalled.

"Your accent is terrible," Charlotte told him, shaking his head.

"Awful," Remus agreed.

"If you're going to agree with her, you can just leave," Daniel said to Remus, pointing toward the door.

"Ton papa n'aime pas les blagues," Charlotte told Remus conspiratorially. Your father can't take a joke.

"Dommage."

"I know that one!" Daniel said emphatically. "Too bad."

"Bien fait!" Charlotte said, smiling.

"I know that one, too. Well done!" He turned to Remus. "I'm on a roll today."

"Tu es très doué," Remus told him. You are very talented.

"And now you've lost me again," Daniel said, shaking his head. "Are you two ready for some breakfast?"

"Ouais," Remus said.

"I'll go see what I can find, then," Charlotte said, rising.

Remus went to help her, but Daniel grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, looking at him with concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're all right? I know that couldn't have been easy for you to hear. Especially today of all days. As if you didn't have enough to be worrying about."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Remus asked.

"We didn't want you to be scared. We thought you had enough demons in your life already without having to worry about one more. Besides, it's not like there's much you can do about it. Just... be careful at Hogwarts."

"I will."

"I love you," Daniel said, pulling Remus into a hug.

"I love you too, Dad, and I'll be careful. I promise."

"I know you will. You're a good lad. Come on, let's go see what we can find to eat in this house."

After breakfast came the flurry of last-minute packing, and no sooner had they left the house than Remus remembered something he'd forgotten and they had to go back. Remus ran in to get it and they set off again, only to have to turn around a second time. The third time Remus announced he'd forgotten something, Daniel told him they'd have to send it to him, else he miss the train. They arrived at King's Cross Station with only five minutes to spare and made their way quickly to the platform.

Remus looked at the scarlet steam engine and felt a surge of fear. He turned to his parents, trying not to think about how far away Christmas was. He felt his eyes fill with tears, and swiped at them, embarrassed by their presence. Next to him, a boy with messy black hair who appeared to be his own age was watching him.

"What if no one likes me?" Remus whispered to his parents. "What if I don't make any friends?"

"Why would anyone not like you?" Daniel asked.

Remus shrugged. "J'ai peur," he whispered to his mother. I'm scared.

"It's not to late to change your mind, Remus," she replied. "You can still decide you'd rather stay home."

Remus considered it. As badly as he wanted to go, now that the moment of parting was here he found himself filled with doubts. "No, I want to go," he said, sniffing back the tears. If he could face monthly transformations, surely he could survive boarding school.

"Take care of yourself, and we're only a floo away if you need us. Dumbledore has agreed to let you come home as often as you think you need to," Daniel told him.

"Au revoir, ma puce," Charlotte said, clinging to Remus.

"Au revoir, maman," Remus replied.

"Bye, Dad," he said, giving his father a fleeting hug as he ran to catch the train. He hopped onto the train and didn't look back. He didn't want them to see his tears.

He turned toward the train and began his search for a compartment, the refrain, "what if I don't make any friends?" echoing in his mind. In the end, he needn't have worried. By the time he went to sleep in the Gryffindor dormitory that night, he had a firm friend in Peter Pettigrew.

He was awake before the other boys the following morning. He tiptoed to the bathroom to wash and change, being careful not to make any noise. He was afraid to wake anyone. Soon after he finished and returned to his bed to read, Peter went to the bathroom himself, but he obviously had no qualms about waking the others. He sang so loudly in the showers that Remus was sure the whole castle could hear. Then he clomped back into the room and opened his trunk, rattling around in it. When he was finished, he dropped his lid so that it thumped against the body of the trunk.

"Would you be quiet," James Potter said irritably, putting a pillow over his head.

"Sorry," Peter said, not even attempting to keep his voice down. "Remus, are you awake?"

"How could he not be awake with you stomping around," Sirius Black said. "You better not be planning to do that every morning, or I'm going to start locking you out."

"I said I was sorry," Peter said defensively.

"What's going on?" Dirk Cresswell asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"Pettigrew decided it's time for all of us to be up," Sirius said bitterly.

"Stop it," Remus said quietly, working up his courage. "He didn't mean to. He probably didn't realize how loud he's being. He'll be quiet tomorrow, won't you, Peter?"

Peter nodded. "You see," Remus said. "There's no reason to be mean about it."

Sirius jolted up in his bed, looking as though he were going to let loose on Remus. Remus braced himself, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

"He's right, you know," James said, sitting up as well. "He probably just didn't think about it. I probably wouldn't have, either. I've got my own room and home."

"Me, too, but I know better than to go around the house singing at the top of my lungs first thing in the morning," Sirius snapped.

"You could hear me?" Peter asked.

"My parents could probably hear you all the way in London," Sirius said. "You were sharp, by the way."

Remus climbed out of bed. "Come on, Peter. We don't have to stay here. Let's go down to breakfast."

Peter shot Sirius an apologetic look as Sirius huffed and climbed out of bed.

"I didn't mean to wake everyone," Peter said as they climbed out the portrait hole.

"They'll get over it," Remus assured him. "They were all going to have to get up soon anyway."

"Sirius hates me," Peter whinged.

"He doesn't even know you."

"Doesn't matter. He hates me. He was awful to me last night. Accused me of stuttering."

Remus shrugged, not sure what to say. Peter had been stuttering.

When they got to the Great Hall, it was nearly empty. They sat at the edge of the Gryffindor table and filled their plates, watching as students slowly filed in. When James and Sirius came in, Peter pointed them out.

"Do you reckon they'd like to sit with us?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe," Remus said with a shrug.

"Let's ask them," Peter said, jumping up.

Sirius was waylaid almost the moment he set foot in the Great Hall by a seventh year Slytherin with brown hair. She said something softly to James and he nodded, retreating quickly to the Gryffindor table. Then she and Sirius began to converse in low voices. Remus thought it looked like a very unhappy conversation.

"Oh, I know her. That's Andromeda Black," Peter said. "I met her yesterday. She's Sirius's cousin. I'm going to go say hello."

"They look busy. You should probably wait."

"No, it's fine," Peter said, dismissing him with a wave if his hand. "I told you, I met her yesterday. We're friends."

Remus almost cringed when Peter walked up to them and interrupted.

"He's a bit thick, isn't he?" James asked, seating himself nearby and piling food onto his plate. Remus wasn't sure how to respond. He wanted to defend his new friend, but he couldn't really argue the point. Peter did seem to be a bit thick. It turned out not to matter because James continued. "This should be fun to watch, at least."

Remus didn't think it was going to be the least bit fun to watch, but he was far too shy to contradict James, so he let the comment stand and stared after Peter. It was like watching a train wreck. He knew it was going to be awful, but he couldn't seem to make himself turn away.

"Hello, Andromeda," Peter said, a little too loudly.

"Hello," she said, so softly that Remus could barely hear.

"Do you remember me from yesterday? From the train?"

"Yes, I remember you. How are you liking Hogwarts?"

"Oh, it's nice. I'm a Gryffindor, you know."

"I know. Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but we're sort of having a private conversation here. Can you give us a moment?" she said, not unkindly. Remus felt relieved. That hadn't been too painful at all.

"I told you I knew your cousin," Peter said gloatingly to Sirius. Remus groaned.

"I know her, too," Sirius said. "What's your point?"

"How's your boyfriend?" Peter asked Andromeda. "Ted."

"I haven't got a boyfriend," Andromeda said coldly.

"Yes, you have," Peter corrected her. "I saw you kissing him."

Andromeda's eyes grew wide.

"What is the matter with you?" Sirius shouted. All across the hall, students turned to watch. "Were you in the corner picking your nose when brains were being handed out?"

Peter's face fell, and his eyes filled with tears. "I have a brain," he said.

Sirius's anger faded visibly from his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Peter didn't seem to hear. He hid his face in his hands and fled from the Great Hall. Remus got up to run after him, but by the time he got to the Entrance Hall, Peter was nowhere in sight. He climbed up to the dormitory, but Peter wasn't there, so he returned to his breakfast to find Sirius sitting with James.

"Is he all right?" Sirius asked, almost pleadingly.

"I don't know. I couldn't find him."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Only Andromeda and I were sort of in the middle of something important."

Remus shrugged.

"McGonagall came by to give us schedules while you were gone. Here's yours," James said, handing Remus a piece of parchment. "We got Pettigrew's as well."

"I'll take it," Remus said, and James handed it over.

"It's almost time for Potions. You want to walk with us?" James asked.

"I should try to find Peter," Remus said. "Thanks, though."

"See you later, then."

Remus nodded. "See you."

In the end, Remus couldn't find Peter anywhere, and he was late to his very first class. Peter didn't show up again until lunch, where he was subdued. He refused to look Sirius in the eye or accept his apology.


	5. James: 5 September, 1971

Beta'd by LauraWinter

* * *

James: 5 September, 1971

"James! Oi! James!"

James awoke slowly. There was an odd weight on his chest. He pushed at it and realized it was Griselda. His chest seemed to be her favorite place to sleep.

"Are you awake?"

"No."

"Oh." A pause. "How about now?"

"No!"

"Well, wake up! I haven't got all night!"

"I'm sleeping, Sirius."

"Then how are you talking?"

James sighed. "What do you want?"

"I can't sleep."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Andromeda told me how to get down to the kitchens. I'm going to go get a midnight snack. I thought maybe you'd like to come with me."

"I'd like to sleep."

"Andromeda says the house elves will give us cake."

"I don't want cake. I want to sleep."

"She says they'll also give us butterbeers."

James moved Griselda, who meowed in protest, and rolled over onto his side to look at Sirius. "You're not going to let me sleep, are you?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my friend, of course. I'd never leave you out of something like this."

"But I want to be left out."

"You know, in the amount of time you've laid there whinging at me, we could have come and gone already."

"I was not whinging."

"What do you call it then?"

"Sleeping!"

"Get up, James."

James sighed again and threw off his blankets.

"Fine, I'll come. But I want you to know that I'm not happy about it."

"You'll change your mind once you're full of cake and butterbeers."

"I doubt it."

The two of them stumbled down the stairs in the dark, squinting in the light of the corridors as they exited the portrait hole.

"So, where is it, then?" James asked.

"Down in the dungeons, under the Great Hall. We're supposed to find a picture of a bowl of fruit and tickle the pear."

"Tickle the pear?" James repeated.

"That's what she said."

"Are you sure she wasn't pulling your leg?"

"Yes. She wouldn't lie to me. And besides, she doesn't have much of a sense of humor."

"I find it hard to believe that anyone you're related to wouldn't have a sense of humor."

"Oh, no, it's the opposite. I'm the only one with a sense of humor. Well, Regulus has one as well. He's very funny. You'd like him."

"When's he coming?"

"Next year."

"Maybe he'll be in Gryffindor. We can be a trio. We'll call ourselves the Crusaders or something."

"Crusaders?"

"You got a better name?"

"How about Marauders?"

"Marauders. Hmm. Yes, I like it. You and me and Regulus. The Marauders."

"Black and Potter!" McGonagall's voice chased them down the hall. James groaned as he turned around to face her. He already had reason to be a little afraid of her. Not only was she formidable in class, but his parents went to Hogwarts when she was Head Girl and had warned James about how strict she was likely to be.

"Do you think we could make a run for it?" James asked Sirius.

"Nah, it's too late for that. Watch this."

"What are you two doing out of bed?" McGonagall asked sternly, walking up to them.

Sirius began to cry. James was so shocked, he stared at Sirius with his mouth open.

"Shut your mouth, you idiot, and play along," Sirius whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth.

"We're sorry, Professor," Sirius sobbed. "We were on our way the hospital wing. James is sick." James felt his face go hot.

"The hospital wing is nowhere near here," she said suspiciously.

"We got lost. We still haven't learned our way around yet. Please don't be cross. We weren't trying to be bad. It was my fault. I convinced him to go. I was worried about him." Sirius hung his head, looking up at McGonagall through his fringe of dark curls and turning sad eyes on her.

McGonagall blinked. She looked back and forth between them as she put her palm to James's forehead. "You do look a little flushed, and you're warm. What's the matter?"

"I... I..." James stammered, trying to think up a convincing lie. His mind had gone infuriatingly blank. He felt a little bit like he might sick up. At least then McGonagall would believe he was really sick, he told himself.

"It's his stomach, Professor. He was trying to be brave, but I told him he should go to the hospital wing. I'm sorry. I was just so worried."

"You did absolutely right," McGonagall said, patting Sirius on the head. "But in the future you should come and wake me if there's a problem."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right. You didn't know. Come along, James. Let's get you to the hospital wing."

"May I come, too? I want to be sure he's all right."

McGonagall smiled warmly at him. "You may come just until we get him settled. Then you'll need to go back to bed."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

McGonagall put a hand on James's back and ushered him to the hospital wing, with Sirius trailing along behind. James turned back to look at Sirius, utter confusion on his face. Sirius winked at him and put a finger to his smiling mouth. James smiled back. Sirius was going to be very useful to have around.

In the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey fretted and tutted over James. Sirius acted shocked when she couldn't appear to find anything wrong. "Maybe he's just homesick," Sirius suggested.

"Oh, you poor dear," Madame Pomfrey clucked. "Yes, I always have one or two in here for nerves the first week. Would it help if you could talk to your parents through the floo?"

"I'm eleven!" James protested. Getting out of trouble was all well and good, but he still had his pride. He was not going to be the only person to floo his parents, even if he did really want to talk to them.

"Of course you are, dear."

"And I'm not homesick," James said.

McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey shared a significant look, and James had the distinct impression that they did not believe him.

"I'm sure you're not," Madame Pomfrey said soothingly. "Tell you what, I'll bring you a quill and some parchment, and you can write your parents a nice letter. Will that help you feel better?"

"I'm not homesick!" James insisted.

"Of course not," Madame Pomfrey told him, patting his arm understandingly before scurrying off the get his supplies.

"You need to get back to bed, Mr. Black," McGonagall said. "Tell James goodnight. You'll see him in the morning."

"Goodnight, James," Sirius said obediently. "Feel better."

When they got to the door, Sirius turned back to give James another wink. James glared at him, but Sirius didn't seem to mind. James was not the slightest bit amused about his telling everyone James was homesick.

"Here you are, dear," Madame Pomfrey said, returning with a quill, some parchment, and an envelope. "You just write your parents a nice letter, and I'll send it for you in the morning. And don't tell anyone, but I've brought you some biscuits and milk. I've found that usually helps with homesickness."

"I'm not homesick," James repeated emphatically.

"No?" Madame Pomfrey questioned, taking the plate of biscuits out of James's reach. "Then I suppose I'll just send these back down to the kitchens."

"Maybe I'm a little homesick," James admitted. Madame Pomfrey smiled at him and handed him the plate of biscuits, which James took gratefully. For someone who wasn't homesick, he spent rather a lot of time thinking about how Hogwarts' biscuits were not nearly as good as his mother's.

The next morning, James presented Madame Pomfrey with a very long letter, thanked her for the biscuits and milk, and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Are you feeling all right?" Remus asked him shyly at breakfast. "Sirius told us you were sick last night."

"Yes, fine, thank you," James said, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"What was wrong with you?" Peter asked.

"Nothing much," James said with a shrug. "Anyway, I'm fine now. Where is Sirius?"

"He was still sleeping when we left him," Peter said, a frown on his face.

"Why didn't you wake him?" James asked.

"Because he's a git," Peter said.

"He is not a git," James said, his temper rising. "You're a git."

"I am not," Peter protested.

"Look like one to me," James said.

Peter turned to Remus, who had buried his head in his plate. "Tell him I'm not a git," Peter ordered.

Remus looked up at James, who was glaring at him. "He's not," Remus said.

"Why do you let him boss you around like that?" James asked.

"I do not boss him around. Remus, tell him I don't boss you around."

"Why don't you tell _him_ you can make your own decisions," James retorted.

"Tell him to keep his nose out of other people's business," Peter snapped.

"Tell him he's a prat who ought to shut it if he knows what's good for him."

"Tell him he shouldn't be calling people names."

"Tell him he's the one who started calling people gits."

"Tell him I only call them like I see them."

Remus was glancing back and forth between them as though he weren't sure what to do. He slipped slowly down the table away from the two arguing boys. They were so busy glaring at one another they didn't notice.

"Tell him," James began, glancing at Remus. "Hey, where'd he go?" His eyes quickly located Remus. "What are you doing all the way down there?"

"I don't like being caught in the middle of things," Remus said softly.

"I'm sorry," James said. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I just think you should stand up for yourself is all."

"I stand up for myself."

"And besides, it's not your business," Peter interrupted.

James shot him a withering look as Sirius sat down, yawning loudly. "Morning, James. You feeling better?" he asked James with a sly smile.

"Oh, yes, loads. Madame Pomfrey gave me milk and biscuits. I think I'm going to start getting sick every night."

"Don't you think she might catch on after a while?" Sirius asked.

James shrugged.

"And I'll have you know that your cat crawled all over me last night after you left. She kept me awake. She kept trying to sleep on my chest."

"Yes, she does that. I think it means she likes you."

"Well, it was bloody annoying. I've never been a huge fan of cats."

"No?" James asked.

"They're all right, I suppose. It's just I prefer dogs."

"I like them both," James said.

"I hate dogs," Peter cut in.

"Who asked you?" Sirius asked coldly. Their relationship had only gone downhill since Peter refused to accept Sirius's apology a few days before. Sirius seemed to be taking it as a personal affront. He kept claiming it was "indicative of bad breeding". James had no idea what that meant, but Sirius clearly thought it a very serious offense.

The students all looked up as a load of owls flew into the Great Hall. Sirius, James, and Remus all received something from home. Peter did not. Sirius opened his letter with shaky hands and scanned it quickly, his face tense. It lightened after a few lines.

"Brilliant! More biscuits!" James exclaimed, tearing the paper off his package. "Here, Sirius, you want one?"

Sirius took one gratefully.

"What'd you get?" James asked around his biscuit.

"Letter from my brother."

"How's he doing?"

"He's well. Mother's making him take cello lessons, and he's very unhappy about it."

"Cello lessons? That sounds awful," Peter said.

"I took cello lessons," Sirius said. "You have a problem with it?"

"No," Peter said quickly, shaking his head.

"Did you like cello?" Remus asked.

"I hated it," Sirius said. "I wanted to play guitar, but she says that's not proper for a boy of my station. That's probably why she's making Reg take cello now. She has dreams of one of us being a classical musician, and it certainly isn't going to be me."

"Here, Remus, Peter, you two want a biscuit?" James asked, handing the tin to Remus.

"Sure," Remus said, taking one.

"Thanks," Peter said, taking one as well.

"Wow, these are really good," Remus moaned.

"My mother makes the best biscuits in all of England."

"I believe it," Sirius said, taking his last bite. "May I have another one?"

"Sure, take as many as you like," James said, handing the tin to Sirius. "She used to bring them to me every morning," James said wistfully. "With tea."

"You got biscuits and tea every morning?" Sirius asked.

"You're lying," Peter said. "No one's mother brings them biscuits and tea every morning."

"Mine does," James snapped.

"What's your problem, Pettigrew?" Sirius asked.

"I don't have a problem. It just seems far-fetched is all. Tea and biscuits every morning."

"Maybe it's because his mother actually likes him," Sirius suggested. "Yours, on the other hand..."

"Don't you talk about my mother!" Peter shouted. It was so unexpected that James jumped. The Great Hall went deathly quiet.

"Sensitive about Mummy, are we?" Sirius asked, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Sirius stared at Peter, who was breathing heavily and clutching his wand. James looked around and saw that several teachers were coming toward them. "Sirius, I think that's enough," he said softly.

Sirius stared at Peter another moment before standing. "You're right. He's not worth it. Come on, James. Let's go to class."

James got up and followed Sirius out of the Great Hall. "That miserable little arse," Sirius muttered.

"Why does he bother you so much?" James asked.

"I don't know. He just does. He's just so... I don't know."

"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," an unpleasant voice sneered from an alcove. Sirius and James had walked right past Snape without seeing him.

"What do you want, _Snivellus_?" James asked, scowling.

"Oh, nothing," Snape said, stepping out of the alcove and into their path. "I was just heading to class when I heard you struggling to form a sentence. You've caused quite the scandal, you know, Sirius. I hear you broke your mother's heart. Narcissa says she's been crying her eyes out every night."

"You don't know anything about it," Sirius spat at Snape, his face taking on a hard edge as he set his teeth angrily. He took a menacing step toward the sallow Slytherin.

"I know more about it than you think I do, Black" Snape retorted, taking a step toward Sirius. "Your cousin, Bella, has been sending her sisters letters. She says your whole family is disgusted with you. Narcissa says she's had to go to your house every night this week and comfort your poor mother." Snape shook his head. "Tut, tut. What a pity. If only you'd been in Slytherin."

Sirius took another step forward, "I wouldn't be in Slytherin if my life depended on it. Not if it meant I had to hang around with scum like you."

Snape pulled out his wand and put it in Sirius's face. Sirius pushed it away. "Don't point your wand at me, you filthy half-blood."

"Sirius!" James exclaimed. James knew that Sirius was a Black, but he had not struck James as the sort of person who cared about blood purity. Disappointment spread through James's chest. He liked Sirius, but he wasn't sure he wanted to be friends with anyone who was caught up in pureblood mania. James was a pureblood himself, but his father had told him over and over again that it didn't make him better than anyone else. Harry was adamant that prejudice toward muggle-borns and half-bloods was evil, and recent events seemed only to prove it. Just that spring a muggle-hater who called himself Lord Voldemort had begun murdering people. Harry had explained to James that twisted people like Voldemort were the natural outcome of prejudice, and James wanted no part of it.

Snape's eyes went wide. "How did you know I was a half-blood?"

"I can tell by looking at you," Sirius said, looking Snape up and down. "If you had any proper breeding, you'd know how to wash. Your skin's so greasy, the house elves could probably fry eggs on your face."

It was obvious that Sirius had wounded him. Snape seemed almost to wilt. His wand clattered to the floor as he lost his grip on it. James felt sorry for him for a moment. But then his face contorted suddenly and his hand tightened into a fist, which he quickly crashed into Sirius's face. Sirius fell backward into James, and the next thing James knew, all three of them were rolling around on the floor.

After only a very few moments, James felt himself being jerked up by his arm. He was expecting to see a teacher, but instead saw Sirius's cousin, Andromeda. She had Sirius by the arm as well. Ted Tonks was holding a still-struggling Snape. "What are you doing?" Andromeda hissed at Sirius. "You're going to get into trouble fighting in the corridors."

"He started it," Sirius said, pointing at Snape.

"He called me a half-blood!" Snape scowled.

Andromeda turned to Snape. "Aren't you a half-blood?" she asked. Unlike Sirius, there was no unkindness in her voice as she asked.

Snape stopped struggling. He glared at Andromeda as Ted let him go. "You aren't going to side with him, are you?"

"I'm not siding with anyone," she said simply. "As far as I'm concerned, this doesn't have to go any farther than this."

"But he punched me," Sirius insisted. "You're Head Girl, Annie. Do something."

"If I do something to him, I'll have to do it to you, too. Is that what you want? For your parents to know you've been fighting? And with a Slytherin, no less?"

She whispered something to Sirius that James couldn't quite hear, but it made Sirius's face go white. "No," he said after a few moments had passed.

Andromeda turned to Snape. "You should get to class, and if I catch you fighting again, I'm going to tell Slughorn. It doesn't matter what someone calls you, you're a Slytherin first and foremost, and Slytherins don't brawl in the corridors."

Snape picked up his wand and sloped away, muttering under his breath.

"Oi! Watch your cheek," Ted called after him.

As soon as Snape was out of earshot, Andromeda turned to Sirius, her face soft. "Are you all right, Shorty?" She touched his face gingerly. "You look like you're going to have a black eye. You should go to the hospital wing and get some bruise salve."

Sirius winced and jerked away from her. "I'm fine," he said, blinking angrily. "Snape said Cissy said Mother's been crying her eyes out every night. Is that true?" His voice was trembling slightly, as though he was afraid of the answer.

"That's what Bella says, but you know how Bella is. She's probably lying just to get Cissy to say something to you about it because she knows it would hurt you. You shouldn't worry about it. You can't help what happened. It's not your fault."

"What happened?" James asked, unable to stop himself. He had been listening to all of this with mounting curiosity. He was quite sure that something important was going on, but he couldn't work out what it might be.

"Nothing much," Sirius said. "We'd better go. We'll be late for class. Thanks, Annie."

"Any time, Shorty."

"Don't call me 'shorty'."

"Then don't call me 'Annie'."

"I could start calling you 'Dromedary'."

"You do, and I'll put you in detention."

"You could never put me in detention," Sirius replied. "You love me too much."

"I could put you in detention right now, you little midget."

Sirius dropped his head and looked up at her through his curls, his eyes wide.

"Don't try that on me. It won't work."

Sirius pouted.

Andromeda smiled at him. "Oh, all right. Maybe it works a little bit. Now get to class, you little monster."

"See you later, Annie," Sirius said, winking his non-swollen eye.

"See you later, Shorty," Andromeda said, smiling.

"Hey, Sirius," James asked as they walked to class. "Why did you call Snape a half-blood?"

"Because he is a half-blood," Sirius said with a shrug.

"But you meant it as an insult. You're not one of those people who thinks purebloods are better than everyone else, are you?"

Sirius stopped walking. "No," he said. "No, of course not."

"It sounded that way."

A look of shame crossed Sirius's face. "You're right," he said sadly. "But I don't think that. I swear I don't."

James nodded skeptically. "Do you call people... you know... that word for muggle-born."

"No," Sirius said, emphatically. "I've never called anyone that, and I never would. You have to believe me. My family's like that, but I'm not. I swear it."

"I believe you," James said, quickly making up his mind. "Only you shouldn't use blood status as an insult. It doesn't mean anything, and it's not like he can help being a half-blood."

"I know that. I was just angry is all. He was having a go at my mother."

"Yeah, he's a turd. Did you see him in Potions the other day? I thought he was going to break his arm off waving it under Slughorn's nose like that. He's a nightmare. Honestly."

With a new subject to discuss, Sirius and James continued to their class, happily abusing Snape all the while.


	6. Sirius: 6 September, 1971

Sirius: 6 September, 1971

"James! Wake up!"

James rolled over in a huff. "What now?" he asked.

"We should try again to go to the kitchens."

"No way. McGonagall would never believe I got sick two nights in a row."

"We'll be more careful this time. We won't get caught."

"What if we do?" James asked, sitting up.

"We won't. Say, you're not scared of getting in trouble, are you?"

"No, but I don't want to get on her bad side too early. My dad says she's scary when she's angry."

"Come on, what's the worst thing she can do to us?"

James only shrugged.

"So, are you coming or not?"

James sighed. "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm never going to forgive you."

"Fair enough," Sirius said. "Come on."

This time, rather than walking boldly down the corridors, they flitted from classroom to classroom, keeping an eye out for danger. They had to hide from Filch, the new caretaker, twice. Sirius was thankful that the old caretaker, Pringle, was gone. Andromeda had told him stories about how foul Pringle was. She did not even attempt to hide how pleased she was that he had decided to retire at the end of the previous term. Sirius knew he must have been really foul for Andromeda not to like him. She usually liked everybody.

The kitchens were every bit as exciting as Sirius had hoped. As promised, the house elves that flitted to and fro were more than happy to give James and Sirius anything they asked for. Sirius was vaguely aware that not all house elves were as vile as Kreacher. After all, his Uncle Alphard had house elves who were very kind to him, and his Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella's house elves seemed to live for Sirius's orders. It was only Kreacher who hated him.

When they were full of sandwiches and cake and butterbeers, Sirius and James sneaked back up to their dormitory, neither of them in the mood to sleep. They agreed to play wizard's chess until they got sleepy. Uncle Alphard had given Sirius his chess set. It was a Black family heirloom, and Alphard said the heir ought to have it. Sirius thought the family put far too much importance on him and his inheritance. His aunts and uncles would look at him with dewy eyes and tell him he must carry on the family traditions. His cousins would all one day marry and join other families. He and Regulus carried all the hopes and dreams of the House of Black on their shoulders. If the name was to survive, they must pass it on.

He had been forced through his paces at a young age, learning decorum and manners and the ways of high society. "Proper breeding", as his mother called it. He had been forced to learn to play the cello, and been beaten more times than he could count for refusing to practice. His tutor had been commanded to teach him French and crack him on the knuckles if his pronunciations were poor, which was often. It seemed every time he turned around, someone was forcing him to do something he didn't want to do and hurting him for not doing it well.

Now, for the first time, he felt as though he could finally breathe. Here at Hogwarts, he was just another student. No one had unrealistic expectations of him. No one told him he was stupid, or a disappointment. No one told him he should stop carrying on like a mudblood. And, best of all, no one hit him. As far as he could tell, everyone liked him here, except Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape, and the few Slytherins who had sidled up to him in the corridors to whisper "blood traitor" in his ear. But Sirius couldn't have cared less about any of them.

As he set up his chess pieces and watched James do the same, he couldn't help but smile at his friend. Although he'd only known James for a week, James was already the best friend he'd ever had. And the best part of all was that he knew James didn't care about his being the heir any more than Sirius himself cared. James liked him for himself, and that was a wholly new experience for Sirius. Reg and Andromeda were the only other people in the world for whom that was true. Reg and Andromeda, and now James.

"Ready to lose?" James asked, a smile on his face.

"Lose? Me? Not likely. You're going down, Potter," Sirius said, smiling back at him.

"Those are some big words, Black. I'd hate for you to have to eat them."

In the end, James fell asleep waiting for Sirius to make a move and Sirius, still not the least bit tired, curled up in the armchair to wait for morning.

He awoke when the other students began coming down the stairs. He looked across the way and saw that James was just waking as well. He stretched, yawning loudly. "I'm skiving," he said around a second yawn. "I'm far too tired for History of Magic today. I'll never stay awake."

"Yes, but if you're going to fall asleep in a class, that's the one to do it in. Binns will probably never notice. Besides, you don't want to skive the first week."

James gave such an exuberant yawn that Sirius could see his uvula. "That's a good point you make. All right, I'll go." He stood and stretched just as Remus and Peter came down the stairs.

"Did you two sleep down here?" Peter asked, his tone disapproving.

"So what if we did," Sirius snapped.

"Sirius," James said.

"What? He's nosy."

"Well, you don't have to pick on him so much."

"You pick on Snape."

"That's different. Snape's a Slytherin. You don't pick on your own housemates."

"What if they're annoying?"

"I'm not annoying!" Peter said, stamping his foot.

"You still don't pick on them," James said, ignoring Peter's protest.

"I'm going to go change," Sirius announced before he said something he'd regret. He glared at Peter as he walked past. He couldn't have said why Peter bothered him so much. It had started out innocently enough, the two of them snapping at each other on the first night. Then he had said that awful thing to him in the Great Hall the first day. Sirius felt a twinge of guilt when he remembered the way Peter's face had crumpled as Orion's words poured out of Sirius's mouth.

As soon as he said them, he wished he could have plucked them out of the air and stuffed them back into his mouth before they reached Peter's ears. After all, Peter had no way of knowing what Andromeda's parents were like. He had no way of knowing what would happen to her if anyone in the family discovered she was dating a muggle. Peter had been innocent that day. Stupid, but innocent, and Sirius wished he could take his harsh words back. But he couldn't take them back, and all his attempts to apologize had been rebuffed.

Now, Peter seemed to be going out of his way to annoy Sirius. And, worst of all, he had started picking on James. James hadn't realized it yet, but Sirius was well used to the way that tiny throw-away insults could build nests in a person's mind and poison them slowly. His mother operated that way - constantly picking and poking until the day came that Sirius felt he would explode if he heard one more negative word come out of her mouth. Then when he did, she would call him a baby and tell him that his reaction was out of proportion to her words, as though the small hurts never added up. And that's what they were: tiny things - little scratches; but given enough little scratches, a person could still bleed to death.

Sirius didn't care so much for himself; he could take it. But he couldn't bear the thought of Peter taking out his frustrations on James. He had wanted to punch him right in his mousy face for having a go at James's mother the day before, and he would have if James hadn't stopped him, oblivious to what Peter was trying to do. And now James was defending him, as though Sirius were the one in the wrong.

James came up a moment after Sirius, but Sirius didn't speak to him.

"Are you cross?" James asked.

"Not with you," Sirius replied.

"I'd still like to know why he bothers you so much," James said.

Sirius forced himself not to say, "because he reminds me of my mother." It wouldn't do for James to know all of that. He would likely take that secret to his grave. He hated to think how badly his father would beat him if his mother could no longer use the threat of people finding out to make him stop.

Sirius shook his head. "Don't you see what he's trying to do?"

"What is he trying to do?"

"He's purposely goading me. And when it doesn't work, he purposely goads you to get to me. He's trying to get to me. He's trying to hurt me. And you're playing right into his hands. It's a head game, James. It's all a head game, and you're just letting him do it."

"I don't think he's smart enough to think that way. I think he's just an idiot who says stupid things because he doesn't think before he opens his mouth."

"Yeah, well, I think he's smarter than he's letting on." Sirius grabbed his towel and huffed to the bathroom, leaving a baffled James in his wake.

"I'm not saying we should throw him a dinner party, Sirius," James called a moment later over the spray of their showers. "I'm just saying you should ignore him. If he's trying to get you wound up, than wouldn't that be the best way to handle it? I mean, you don't want to end up in a fight with someone from your own house."

Actually, it might have been better for Sirius to end up in a fight with someone from his own house. It would certainly turn out better for him than fighting with a Slytherin. Andromeda's words the day before when she pulled him off of Snape had reminded him of that. After she informed him that she couldn't punish Snape without punishing him as well, she had turned to him a whispered, so softly that no one else could hear, "You know your father will cane you."

It wasn't a cruel reminder. Every time Andromeda had been in the house when Sirius or Regulus got the cane, she would end up crying her eyes out. Her father, Sirius's Uncle Cygnus, had interfered more than once to make Orion stop beating Sirius or Regulus. And the two had nearly come to blows when Orion took his cane to Bellatrix one day when she was eleven. It was one of the few times Sirius had thought someone deserved to be beaten. She was in trouble for pinching Regulus until he had bruises covering his arms. When asked why she did it, she smiled and said it was because she liked to hear him cry. Regulus was two at the time, and Sirius barely four.

Sirius was the one who found them. He had been in his room when he heard Regulus cry. When he discovered what she had done, he ran to Bellatrix and kicked her shins before screaming for his mother to come and look. Andromeda had once mentioned in passing that Bellatrix blamed Sirius for getting her beaten and still held a grudge. It wasn't the first time Bellatrix hurt Regulus just for the fun of doing it, but it was the last. Sirius was careful after that to never let Reg out of his sight when Bellatrix was nearby. He wasn't sure why she always chose Regulus as her target. Maybe it was because she sense the sweetness in him. Maybe it was because he would stand for it, while Sirius never would. Oh, he was sure she had done things to him before he was old enough to know to fight back - he had a cluster of very mysterious burn scars on the inside of his wrist that his parents couldn't account for, and he had always suspected Bella - but for as long as he could remember, she had mostly left him alone.

Even when he was small, Sirius had never been the type of person to just roll over and take something. Even with his father, he found his little victories, like refusing to cry or provoking him on purpose so that Sirius, and not Orion, could be in charge of when it happened and who it happened to. He might not be able to stand up to the man yet, but he could, at the very least, protect his brother and refuse to allow the man to defeat him. And the day would come when he would finally put a stop to it. He was still too little now, but he would grow. And when the day finally came, he would break the cane in half and steal Regulus away to somewhere safe. Somewhere that no one could hurt them anymore. Someday.

Sirius sighed thinking of the fading bruises on his backside and hoping beyond hope that Regulus was safe. He turned off the water and grabbed his towel, drying himself thoroughly before pulling on his school robes. The other boys thought him extremely modest for always dressing in the bathroom, but the truth was the he just didn't want anyone to see his bruises or his scars. He stepped out to find James brushing his teeth, a towel around his waist. "I never would have thought it after how much we ate last night, but I'm starving," he said, winking at Sirius in the mirror.

Sirius winked back. "Me, too. I'm so hungry I could eat a hippogriff. Hurry up and get dressed before I go raid your mother's biscuits."

"Help yourself," James said around his toothbrush. "She'll send me more."

Sirius forced down the pang of jealousy that grew in his throat. Walburga had never once made Sirius biscuits, and she hadn't sent him a single letter in the past week, and James didn't even seem to appreciate what he had. Sirius stepped up to the sink to brush his teeth and when he stepped out into the dormitory, James was just struggling into his robes. Sirius sat on the bed, absentmindedly holding Gawain. He had expected to take some ribbing for the presence of the dragon. After all, it had been years since he needed a toy, but James immediately declared Gawain the dorm mascot and said bringing him had been a brilliant idea. He said it with such an air of authority that no one would argue with him.

On James's orders, Sirius drew a picture of him on a pillowcase and they had hung it over their door as a dormitory flag. After only a day or two, all the other Gryffindor dormitories had mascots and flags as well, and now the trend had moved on to the other houses. He knew because the whole school had been scolded after dinner the evening before for destroying so many pillowcases. By now, all the boys in his dorm knew that Gawain belonged to his little brother and would have to stay at home after Christmas. They were already beginning to say things like, "But the dorm won't be the same without our mascot."

"Ready to go down?" James asked, pulling a comb through his hair. Sirius wondered why he bothered. It seemed no matter how much time James spent combing his hair, it always stuck out at odd angles. Sometimes Sirius thought that combing it actually made it worse. Sirius nodded and put Gawain on his pillow.

When he returned to the dormitory that evening, it took him a moment to notice that something was wrong. He set his bag down on his bed, digging through it to get the books he would need for his most pressing homework assignments, then he glanced up at his pillow and his heart sank into his toes.

Someone had cut Gawain's head off.

The head was still there, right next to the body, the stuffing poking out of the neck like brains. Sirius made a small cry in the back of his throat. Reg was going to kill him!

"What's wrong?" James asked, coming up behind him. He saw Gawain immediately. "What in the world?" he asked. "Who would want to cut up our mascot?"

"Maybe it was someone from one of the other dormitories," Dirk Cresswell suggested, joining the small group of mourners.

"Surely not," Michael Wheeler said as Remus came up to pat Sirius on the back. For a moment, Sirius felt he might cry. Then he heard a snort. He turned to see Peter Pettigrew sitting on his bed, a triumphant look on his face.

"You didn't," Remus whispered.

"He deserved it," Peter said with a toss of his head. "Maybe that'll teach you to be nice to me from now on."

Sirius couldn't remember dropping Gawain's remains on the bed. Neither could he remember crossing the room. But he knew he must have because the next thing he knew, he was straddling a screeching Peter and punching every inch of him he could. Peter held his hands over his face and struggled to get away as the other boys tried to pull Sirius off of him. A few minutes later, four prefects came charging in and pulled the boys apart. It took two of them to keep hold of Sirius as he continued to struggle to get to Peter. Peter was hiding behind one of the prefects and crying.

"You son of a bitch!" Sirius screamed at him. "Cower like the filthy rat you are!"

One of the prefects who had him gave Sirius a small shake to get his attention. "That's quite enough of that," he ordered. "If you don't calm yourself, I'm going to put you in a full body bind."

Sirius worked to control his temper. After a few seconds, he jerked free of the prefects. "I'm perfectly calm," he said, straightening his robes. He looked up at the prefect who had spoken and saw that it was Frank Longbottom, the Head Boy. The other prefect who had him was Alice McKinnon.

"Good," Frank said. "Now suppose you tell me what this is all about."

"Peter murdered Sirius's dragon," James said, holding out the pieces of the dragon as proof. "It was our mascot."

"It's my brother's dragon," Sirius said bitterly. "And he's going to be furious when he finds out. He told me to take good care of him."

"Did you behead the dragon?" Frank asked, turning to Peter, who had stepped out from behind the prefect.

"He deserved it," Peter declared. Sirius took a step toward him and Peter squeaked, running behind the prefect again. Frank grabbed Sirius's arm, and Sirius stopped.

"Let's go see what Professor McGonagall makes of this," Frank said. "Give me the dragon."

James handed it over, looking at Sirius with sorrow on his face. Feeling his stomach knot with cold fear and praying that McGonagall wouldn't tell his parents, Sirius followed Frank, Alice, and the two other prefects out of the dormitory.

McGonagall's lips grew thinner and thinner as Frank explained the situation to her. Sirius started resolutely at the ground waiting for the explosion, but when Frank finished talking, her first words were soft. "Give me the dragon."

Frank handed him over and Sirius watched helplessly, wondering what she was planning to do to him. Probably throw him in the rubbish bin. It's what Sirius's father would have done. Sirius and Kreacher had both had to rescue Gawain from the rubbish in the past when Orion decided, usually with no warning, that Regulus was too big for him and threw him out. He had done the same thing to the stuffed hippogriff that Sirius once had and, after several valiant rescues on Sirius's part, Orion took him one day and threw him in the fire. Sirius had had to watch, sobbing, as his favorite toy burned. The next day, he had sneaked into Orion's office and poured ink over all his papers. He reckoned that if Orion could destroy his things, he could destroy Orion's things right back. Orion, however, hadn't seen it that way and had given Sirius one of the worst beatings of his life for it, but Sirius thought it was well worth it.

McGonagall placed the head on the body carefully and pointed her wand at it. A small jet of light shot out and Sirius watched as the dragon went back together seamlessly. She handed him back to Sirius, who immediately inspected him. As far as he could tell, there was no sign that he had ever been destroyed. "You fixed him," Sirius said, looking up at McGonagall.

She smiled at Sirius. "I have a little brother, too. I understand how important these things can be. Now, on to the matter at hand. We do not tolerate fighting here at Hogwarts, and I certainly do not tolerate it in my house. I understand that you were provoked, and I'm taking that into account, but it's still no excuse. I'm taking ten points from Gryffindor, and I had best never hear of your fighting again because I am warning you right now, I am not inclined to be lenient for second offenses. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius told her.

"You're free to go, then."

Sirius looked at her for a moment, not sure what to think. He had heard stories from his cousins about how strict she was. Bella always claimed that she favored the Gryffindors, which was unfair because Slughorn, the Slytherin Head of House, never favored the Slytherins. Andromeda, on the other hand, insisted that McGonagall was fair, and told Sirius in a whisper once that Bella was just bitter because McGonagall wasn't afraid to put her in detention. That had made Sirius smile.

"Thank you," he said, turning toward the door.

"The rest of you may go as well. I'd like to speak to Pettigrew alone."

"I wouldn't want to be that kid," Frank said once they were in the corridor.

"Why not?" Sirius asked. McGonagall didn't seem so bad. Bella had certainly exaggerated in any case.

"She had that look in her eye."

"What look?"

"The look that says someone's about to be very, very miserable."

Frank said no more, and Sirius decided it was best not to push the issue. He continued silently to the common room.

James was on him the second he got through the portrait hole. "Are you all right? What happened? What did she do to you?"

"She docked me points."

James paused. "What else?"

"That's all," Sirius said. "She said she was taking into account that I was provoked. Pettigrew's still with her. I don't think she's going to go easy on him. She fixed Gawain, by the way."

James took the dragon and inspected him. "Smashing! We have out mascot back! Want to finish our game of chess?"

"Sure," Sirius said. "And I'm keeping this little fellow with me at all times from now on."

"A traveling mascot. I like it," James said, smiling.

Peter reappeared a short while later, looking worse for the wear. His face was a mass of bruises, and it looked as though he'd only just stopped crying. He walked right over to Sirius and knocked the chess set to the ground. "I'll have you know, I got a week's worth of detention because of you!"

"How is that my fault?" Sirius asked coldly.

"You attacked me! I never hit you once. You should have been punished, and I should have been let off."

"Ignore him," James whispered softly.

Sirius decided to do just that, forcing himself not to take the bait. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several prefects tensing to break up another fight.

"Maybe McGonagall doesn't like you," Sirius suggested casually. "Surprising, really, you being so pleasant and all. I suppose you'll just have to add her to the list. It's getting to be a rather long list, isn't it? You keep going at this rate, and the whole school will hate you by the end of the month."

Sirius reached down and plucked the chess set off the floor. "Do you remember where your pieces were?" he asked James, ignoring the little noises of fury that were coming out of Peter's mouth.

"No. We'll just have to start over," James said, placing his pieces. Peter sent the board flying once again and stomped off toward the dormitory.

"Would you look at that?" Sirius asked. "I've never seen such an aerodynamic chess set. It just can't seem to hold still."

"Maybe we can persuade it to fly," James suggested.

"It's worth a try," Sirius agreed. He picked it up and flung it at Peter. It smacked him right between the shoulder blades. He turned, his fists clenched.

"That's enough, you two," Frank said in a warning tone. "I don't want to have to take you back down to McGonagall."

"I'm just playing chess," Sirius said innocently. "And Peter was just leaving. Weren't you, Peter?"

Peter let out a loud huff and stomped up the stairs. Sirius leaned back in his chair, his arms behind his head. "I think I handled that well," he said.

"Better than I would have," James agreed. "And I'm starting to see what you mean about him. He's foul."

"No, he isn't," Remus said softly from a nearby chair. "He wants to be friends with you. He's been really upset that you don't like him."

"Are you defending him?" Sirius asked, incredulous. Besides hanging around Peter so much, Remus seemed all right.

"No," Remus said. "Just telling you how it is."

"I'd eat my hat before I'd be friends with a git like him," Sirius muttered. He turned to Remus. "And you can tell him that."

Remus shrugged and buried his face in his book.

"Come on," James said. "Let's start a new game." He crossed the room and picked up the chess board from where it had fallen. It was nearly time to go to bed when Sirius suddenly realized with a jolt that he had completely forgotten his homework.


	7. Peter: 9 September, 1971

Peter: 9 September, 1971

Peter groaned at the sunlight coming in through his window. He had been having a nice dream wherein the healers at St. Mungo's discovered he had been switched at birth. His real parents were wealthy quidditch stars, and they had come to take him home and love him and pay lots of attention to him. He had a variation on that dream often, and he always awoke feeling sad and lost. He heard a strange ripping sound and looked down to see James's kitten scratching at his bed post. He sighed and lifted the kitten into the bed with him. He didn't know why the kitten had chosen his bed post as her favorite place to sharpen her claws, but she had. He absentmindedly scratched her head, and she purred, butting his hand with her head when he stopped. As far as he could tell, the kitten liked him, which was a bit of a relief because no one else did. "Good kitty," he cooed absently as he mentally prepared himself to meet another day.

Remus was not speaking to him. He was still cross with him for ruining Sirius's idiotic dragon, and, if Peter were being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he felt a touch guilty about it. However, he wasn't particularly interested in being honest with himself today. He much preferred to tell himself emphatically that Sirius had deserved it and that Peter's punishments had been unjustified. And they had been, Peter thought to himself. A week's detention, and twenty points.

He had kept quiet about the loss of points, not wanting his housemates to have anything else to pin on him. He had also kept quiet about the terrifying moment when McGonagall turned to a cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a whippy rattan cane. For one very long, very frightening instant, Peter thought he was about to be caned, but she had merely shown the cane to him and threatened to use it on him if he didn't start behaving himself.

"I have very little patience with cruel pranks, Pettigrew," she said sternly. "If I hear of you fighting or destroying someone's personal property again, I can promise you that this-" she grasped both ends of the cane and bent it ominously "-will be your punishment."

Peter remembered it now with bitterness. After all, Sirius had been cruel to him first. Sirius had been insulting him almost non-stop for a week. Sirius had even had a go at his mother, and she hadn't threatened to cane _him_. Not even after Peter told her all about Sirius's near-constant insults. Instead, she said that words were only words and that no matter what Sirius may have said or done to Peter, Peter had no excuse to retaliate in such a fashion. Peter didn't even know what "retaliate" meant, and he was too embarrassed to ask. Now he was afraid he might someday retaliate by accident and end up getting caned for no reason. It was all so unfair.

The kitten suddenly meowed loudly and swiped at the back of Peter's hand. "Ow!" Peter yelped, jerking his hand away as she ran off with an angry "mmrow!" He looked at his hand and saw four lines of blood appear. Damn cat. Okay, so maybe he had been scratching her a little too hard there at the end, but he hadn't meant to. That was the trouble with him. He never meant to foul everything up but, somehow, he always did. He hopped out of bed and went to the loo to get a paper towel. He wet it in the ancient Hogwarts sinks before pressing it to his hand, wincing as it made contact with the tender scratches.

He looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting his face carefully. It was a mass of bruises. Madame Pomfrey checked him out to be sure that nothing was broken, but Professor McGonagall refused to let her heal him. She said the bruises should remain as his punishment for fighting. She was unmoved even when Peter pointed out that that wasn't fair because Sirius had no bruises. The only healing McGonagall allowed was to reduce the swelling around his blackened eyes, just enough that he could still see out of them. They were still dark and tender, as was the swollen bruise on his left cheek. His lip had split against one of his teeth, and Madame Pomfrey said he was lucky that none of his teeth had been knocked out. Then she scolded him for getting himself hurt, as though he had somehow asked Sirius to beat him to a bloody pulp.

Peter sighed, stretching gingerly. His arms and stomach were bruised as well, and he was still sore all over. He really wanted a hot shower, but all the showers were occupied. At that moment, the water in one of them turned off, and a few moments later, someone stepped out. It was James. He came over to the mirror and grabbed his glasses, shoving them onto his face. "What happened?" he asked, taking in the makeshift bandage around Peter's hand. The question was sympathetic, but Peter heard it as a challenge all the same. He heard everything from James or Sirius as a challenge these days.

"Your stupid cat scratched me," Peter informed him.

"I'm sorry," James said compassionately.

"And it keeps scratching my bed," Peter snapped. He heard nothing but pity in James's tone, and it grated on his nerves. He was used to being pitied because of his mother, and he had always hated it. Pitying a person was what people did when they were too lazy to bother doing anything else to help them.

James cocked his head to the side, looking as though he would like to say something. Peter braced himself for whatever it was going to be. Since his and Sirius's fight, neither James nor Sirius had said anything kind to him. James was certainly no longer defending him; rather, he seemed to have declared open season on his mousy housemate. It was almost as though he were taking the desecration of their mascot personally. Silly, really, to care so damn much about a stupid _toy_. In the end James shrugged and began brushing his teeth as Peter ran cold water over his hand. "I'll ask my parents to send me a scratching post," James said softly as he turned to leave. At least the pity was no longer in his tone. "And I really am sorry she scratched you."

"_Yeah, well, I probably deserved it_," Peter thought acidly. "_Everyone always thinks I deserve everything _else_ bad that happens to me._" Out loud, he said only, "thanks".

At that moment, Sirius stepped into the bathroom, slapping James a high five as he made his way out the door. Peter tensed, waiting for whatever Sirius would decide to dish out to him today. It turned out to be unnecessary. Sirius completely ignored him: didn't speak to him, didn't acknowledge him, didn't even look at him. It stung, but at least it was an improvement over being asked if he was busy picking his nose when brains were being handed out. Peter looked at Sirius and caught him quickly glancing away. Git.

Sirius sighed. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Peter glanced at him in the mirror. "Fine," he said.

"What happened to your hand?"

"None of your damn business!"

Sirius shrugged and went back to combing his hair. His stupid perfect hair. If Peter had to watch one more girl bat her eyelashes at Sirius Black, he thought he might scream. If he had to watch one more teacher praise him for his talent, he thought he might explode. And if he had to watch one more boy come up to him excitedly and ask him to draw something, he knew he'd rip out his own hair. Merlin's beard, how Peter hated Sirius. Hated every little thing about him. Him and his perfect, charmed life. Sirius had probably never had a trouble in his whole life. Moron.

Peter also envied Sirius, although he wouldn't have appreciated being told that. Hatred was an easier emotion to deal with. But the truth was that Peter envied Sirius far more than he hated him and, after everything Sirius had done to him in the past week, he still would have jumped at the chance to be Sirius's friend. He couldn't help it, and he certainly couldn't put his finger on it. It was as though Sirius ensnared everyone with his warm smile, and people couldn't help but like him. He even had the teachers fooled, as McGonagall had so deftly proven the day before yesterday. Nearly the whole school had fallen under his spell, and he seemed to be completely oblivious. Peter alone appeared to be able to see what a ridiculous show-off Sirius Black was, with his jokes and his dorm flags and his trend-setting and his Head Girl cousin. Idiot.

Peter returned to the dormitory for his toiletries and climbed into the shower. Since that first day, he hadn't sung in the shower, but Sirius did. And, of course, he did that perfectly as well. As much as Peter wanted to complain about it, he had to admit that it wasn't bad to be serenaded in the morning. None of the other boys seemed to mind it either. Peter sighed. Why couldn't he ever catch a break?

He wandered down to the Great Hall and sat by himself. Remus had given him the cold shoulder all day the day before, refusing to say more than hello and goodbye. Peter was determinedly trying not to let on how much it bothered him. Remus was already more important to Peter than he realized: his first real friend, and now he'd gone and fouled that up as well. Forgetting for a moment about how bruised his face was, he propped his elbow on the table and dropped his cheek forlornly into his hand. Then he yelped and jerked his hand away. He looked around and saw Sirius of all people looking at him with a strange expression on his face.

"What are you looking at?" Peter snapped.

"An arsehole," Sirius replied.

"Yeah, well, it takes one to know one," Peter retorted.

"You do realize you just agreed with him that you're an arsehole, right?" James asked, barely suppressing his laughter. Peter had no response for that, so he turned back to his meal, suddenly finding himself not hungry. "I'm not an arsehole," he muttered, but no one else heard.

Sirius rolled his eyes and returned to his animated conversation with James. Several other first years were sitting close, laughing at everything the two of them said. Peter watched them angrily, telling himself how glad he was not to be a pathetic hanger-on like that, but secretly longing to be sitting there laughing with them.

Peter toyed with his food, not in the mood to eat. He barely noticed when Remus picked up his own plate and moved to sit across from him.

"Feeling lonely?" he asked.

Peter only shrugged, still trying to communicate to the world that he didn't care.

"I'm sorry for not speaking to you yesterday. I was angry, but I shouldn't have turned my back on you."

Peter sat up a little straighter; then he fell again. "Are you still angry?"

"Not like I was. You shouldn't have done it, but I reckon you've been punished enough. Besides, I missed you."

"Really? You missed me?" Peter didn't know if anyone had ever missed him before. Maybe Aunt Miriam, but he could never be sure if she really like Peter or if she was operating out of a sense of obligation.

"Of course. You're my friend!" Remus replied, smiling at him.

Peter tried to smile back, but winced when he remembered his split lip.

Remus winced in sympathy with him. "Sirius really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"It's not as bad as it looks," Peter said, in what he hoped was a brave tone. "It's already better than it was yesterday."

"You really should apologize to him, you know."

Peter shook his head. "Not until he apologizes to me."

Remus let the subject drop. "So, Charms today. What do you think we'll learn?"

When Peter returned to the common room that evening, he was exhausted. After a long day of classes, he had spent a particularly long and miserable detention filing punishment reports for Filch. He could not believe that it was coincidence how many reports in the stacks he had to file meticulously detailed the punishments that past students had been put through for fighting and destruction of property. It was nearly time for bed when he returned to the common room, but he still had homework to do. McGonagall and Binns had both set the first years essays, and Peter had never been a particularly good essay writer, so he had put them both off for the last minute, something he now deeply regretted.

He climbed tiredly through the portrait hole, dragging his satchel on the ground behind him. He went to the dormitory to fetch his books, telling himself he mustn't lie down. He dropped off his bag and opened his trunk, rummaging around for his books. He had already managed to get his trunk messy, so it took a fair amount of rummaging. When he found them, he rose, turned, and dropped the books with a start. Sirius was standing behind him, watching him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a person like that. You nearly gave me heart failure." Peter began mentally preparing himself to run, but Sirius didn't look angry at the moment. He turned to his own trunk and came up with a vial of blue liquid in one hand and a jar of lavender ointment in the other. He held the vial out to Peter.

"I didn't realize until this morning how badly you were hurt. Here. This is a pain potion."

Peter regarded Sirius skeptically. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. Go on. Take it. It'll make you feel better. I've got some bruise salve as well. It's too late for it to make the bruises go away completely, but it'll help at least."

Peter busily tried to make his mind understand. Sirius had beaten him up not two evenings before, and now he was offering him bruise salve?

"Why are you doing this?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought you might like to be able to smile without bleeding. If you don't want them, I'll just put them back." He turned back to his trunk.

"I didn't say I don't want them," Peter said quickly, holding out a hand to stop Sirius. "I just wondered why you're being nice to me all of a sudden."

"Because I'm a nice person."

Peter snorted.

"Why do you do that? You keep complaining that everything's so unfair, and everyone's so mean to you, but I'm trying to help you out here, and you're being a prat."

"I am not being a prat."

"Yes, you are. That's why no one likes you. You've been nothing but a prat ever since you got here."

"You're the one who said I was picking my nose when brains were being handed out."

Sirius sucked in his breath. "I said I was sorry about that. I shouldn't have said it, but the more you act like an arse about it, the less sorry I feel." Sirius tossed the pain potion and the bruise salve on his bed. "There. If you want them, have them. If not, just leave them there and I'll put them up later." Without another word, Sirius practically ran out of the room.

Peter went slowly to Sirius's bed. He picked up the vial and inspected it. It looked like the pain potions his father bought from the apothecary, but he wasn't sure if he could trust it. For all he knew, it was a fake potion that would turn him into a canary or something. Peter wouldn't have put it past Sirius to do something like that. Prat. He finally decided to take the risk. After all, his lip really did hurt. He drank the potion and sighed as he felt it begin its work. He waited to see if anything else would happen, but nothing did, so he decided he could trust the bruise salve. He went to the bathroom mirror and inspected his face once more, slathering the bruise salve on liberally. He knew it wouldn't do much good this late, but it would help, and that was something.

He rinsed out Sirius's potion vial and placed it on top of his trunk. Then he made his way to the common room to find his enemy and return the bruise salve. "Here's your stuff back. And thanks, by the way."

"You're welcome," Sirius said, reaching out to take it the jar.

They stood there staring at one another for a moment as James looked on.

"I accept your apology," Peter commented after a pause. "About what you said last week. Don't worry about it."

Sirius gave a weak smile. "I never should have said it. Someone said that to me once, and I haven't forgiven them yet."

"Who said that to you?" James asked. "You're the smartest bloke I know."

"It's not important," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "He didn't mean it." Sirius looked at Remus. "I didn't mean it either."

"Yeah, well," Peter said slowly. "I guess I'll see you."

"Yeah, see you," Sirius replied.

Peter planned to return to the common room, but Remus stepped in front of his path. "You should apologize for the dragon," he whispered.

Peter shook his head.

"You said you would if he apologized to you first. He just did."

"For what he said. He never apologized for hitting me," Peter whispered back.

"You doesn't owe you an apology for that. You deserved to be hit."

"I did not!" Peter said out loud.

"Yes, you did," Remus hissed. "You never should have cut up his dragon. It isn't even his dragon! It's his baby brother's dragon!"

"I don't care. I'm not apologizing!"

Remus shook his head in disgust. "I've been defending you for two days, you know. Every time someone said you were an arse, I told them no, but now I'm not so sure."

Peter huffed angrily. "I am not an arse!"

"Then prove it!" Remus demanded.

Peter huffed again. He didn't think for one moment that he owed Sirius an apology, but he didn't want the only person in the whole school who liked him thinking he was an arse, either. "Fine," he muttered and went back to Sirius.

"Listen, Sirius," he began awkwardly. "I'm sorry for the dragon. I shouldn't have destroyed it."

"Him," James corrected. "Gawain's a he."

Sirius gave James a wry smile. "I think you're getting more attached to him than I am."

"He's our mascot!" James responded defensively. "An attack on Gawain is an attack on all of us."

"But it was one of us who attacked us," Sirius noted.

James whipped his head around to Peter and looked him up and down. "Shocking, isn't it? Who would have thought there was a traitor among us?"

"I am not a traitor!" Peter insisted. "I don't even know what a traitor is!"

"I traitor is a person who stabs his friends in the back and murders his own mascot."

"I said I was sorry for that, and I didn't stab my friends in the back because you are not my friends." Then he turned and stomped up the stairs. Sirius said something in an undertone just as he got to the stairs, and all the students sitting nearby burst into laughter. Peter felt his face and neck grow hot. He didn't know what Sirius had said, but he was sure it was about him. That was what he got for being nice and apologizing.

Peter was up late into the night finishing his essays, but he pulled his curtains snugly around his bed so he wouldn't have to face the others. Even after he finished the essays, he lay awake in his bed, wondering how things had so quickly gone so terribly wrong.


	8. Remus: 14 September, 1971

Remus: 14 September, 1971

The full moon was in a matter of hours, and Remus sat awake in the common room. He could never sleep the night before the full moon. As though transforming weren't tiring enough, he had to go into it already exhausted. When he was young, his mother would sit up with him all night trying to distract him with games or jokes. Remus was never sure how she did it, but Charlotte could somehow fill every moment with beauty and wonder. Sometimes they'd take walks in the moonlight and look at the moon to remind themselves that it really is beautiful beneath all the dread it brought them. Remus remembered going out to look at it once when it was blood red. It seemed an ominous omen to him, and he feared his transformation the following evening even more than usual, even though his mother told him he shouldn't worry. Usually her reassurances did wonders to calm Remus' nerves, but nothing could stop him from fearing the moon.

It almost seemed to be teasing him tonight, peeking in at him through the tower windows. He was trying not to look at it, trying to bury himself in homework - he'd be missing the next few days of classes, after all - but he couldn't stop himself from glancing up every once and again to see the thing that controlled his existence so cruelly, and so completely. It was like a compulsion for him: staring down the moon as though he could somehow will it down from the starswept nighttime sky.

"Hi, Remus," a voice came from the staircase. Remus jerked his eyes away from the window to see James standing at the bottom of the stairs watching him. "I wasn't expecting anyone else to be down here."

"I couldn't sleep," Remus said by way of explanation.

"Me, neither," James told him. "At home, my dad usually gets up with me and we play games or something. I don't really know what to do now." Remus regarded James for a moment. He had a certain air of carefree childishness about him as he spoke, even though he was clearly homesick. Remus wondered for a moment what it must be like to be James: rich, talented, confident, brilliant, good looking, outgoing and - it was obvious to anyone who listened to him talk for more than two minutes - spoiled rotten.

Remus' parents spoiled him, too, in their way. They were quite strict with him, especially Charlotte, and there was never money for luxuries: everything extra went toward finding a cure for his demons. But they also lavished him with attention. They had to; he had no other social outlets to teach him how to exist in the world. On this night in particular, he was so homesick he felt he could have cried. Now he saw that same streak of homesickness in James and felt a surge of camaraderie. There was not such a difference in the two of them at that moment: two eleven year olds who couldn't sleep and missed the parents who could always make everything better.

"My mum used to sit up with me," Remus replied. "She read to me a lot, or we'd take walks sometimes."

"That's not a bad idea," James said approvingly. "I've been itching to explore the forest a little bit. I'd be willing to bet no one else is awake this early, and the moon is bright. Want to come with?"

Remus would have liked that very much, but he knew he shouldn't. "I'm doing homework," he explained.

"There's plenty of time for homework," James stated. "But there's only one tonight. You don't want to waste it on homework."

"I don't want to get into trouble."

James shrugged. "I'm not so worried about that. If we do, we do. At least we'll have a good story to tell about it."

"My parents told me to behave."

"So did mine, but if they never find out, what does it matter?" James turned toward Remus. "Blimey. Are you all right? You look terrible."

"I'm not feeling well," Remus informed him dutifully. Dumbledore and his parents had worked out this plan. Some months, Remus would claim illness during the full moon and stay at Hogwarts. Other months, he would put out the story that his mother was ill and go home to have his transformation there. The first few months, he would be ill at Hogwarts to get used to it. Next term, his mother's illness would begin. If he were allowed to return, that was.

"You should go to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey will give you biscuits."

"I don't need to go to the hospital wing."

"I'll come with you, if you like."

"You just want an excuse to go exploring," Remus said with a wry smile.

"Well, yes, that, but I don't want you feeling bad either."

"I'll be fine. I've been sick a lot. I know how to take care of myself."

"What's wrong with you?" James asked, eying him warily.

"Nothing much. I just get sick a lot. I'm not contagious or anything."

"Oh. That's good then. That you're not contagious, I mean. Bad luck about getting sick a lot, though. I've got an uncle like that. My mother's little brother. He almost died when he was a baby, and now he catches everything. Mum says he was born weak and never got over it. He wheezes a lot."

"I don't wheeze," Remus said. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want James to think he had been born weak. His illness had come later, spread by the werewolf who caught him trying to catch fireflies only a little after dusk one evening the summer he was four. His parents had been right there watching from their patio, where they were entertaining guests. They managed to drive it away before it attacked any of the other children, but Remus, the most curious and fearless of the bunch, was bitten. How different he now was from the fearless, trusting child he had been. Now, it seemed, there was nothing in the world but fear.

It was odd; one of the last things he remembered before he woke up in St. Mungo's the following morning was looking up at the moon and thinking about how pretty it was and how lucky he was. When he saw the yellow eyes of the werewolf in the underbrush, he thought they were fireflies at first. He actually stepped closer to get a better look. When he realized it was an animal, he didn't even have time to feel afraid before the thing was upon him. By then, it was all over but the shouting.

He studied the scar on his calf sometimes, even though by now it was painfully familiar. When he was younger, he would trace it reverently with his finger, over and over. It held a certain gruesome fascination for him; the bite that had changed his life so completely. It seemed strange to him to think how quickly everything could change. Sometimes he wished he could turn back time to the moment just before it happened and tell his younger self to run far away or warn the adults that the werewolf was hiding in the bushes. Anything to save himself from the curse that had been inflicted upon him in one quick second.

For years, his parents blamed themselves, thinking they should have made Remus go inside sooner or made him stay closer, but Remus himself knew it had been no one's fault. No one's, that was, except the werewolf who did not take enough precautions in his untransformed state. Remus held no grudge. He well knew the helplessness of the transformation. The poor wizard was not responsible. He was probably devastated when he returned to himself in the morning and discovered what he had done. Remus knew he would be if he were to ever attack someone.

"I hate Astronomy!" Remus said suddenly, slamming his book shut. It was the only subject he seemed to have no head for. He couldn't keep everything straight, no matter how hard he tried.

"Don't let Sirius hear you say that. He loves it. He's named after a star, you know."

"I really don't know Sirius that well. He doesn't talk to me much."

James nodded and came to look over Remus' shoulder at the star chart he had been labeling. "Yeah, he's a bit arrogant sometimes. He's a nice chap, though. You've mixed up Neptune and Uranus. And Saturn's only got ten moons. You've given it twelve. Maybe you're confusing it with Jupiter. It's got twelve."

Remus double-checked and began to make hasty corrections. The whole thing would likely have to be redone.

"I'm going outside," James announced. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Yes, I need to get this finished," Remus replied, the slightest tinge of annoyance in his voice. He tried to bite it away. The full moon wasn't James' doing, after all.

James didn't seem to notice Remus' shortness. "Suit yourself," he said with a shrug and took off through the portrait hole. Remus did not see him again until he showed up at breakfast reporting that he never made it outside. Instead, he had decided to explore the dungeons, and he thought he might have found the Slytherin common room. "Just think," he told Sirius, "if we could guess the password, we could sneak in there and play all sorts of pranks."

Sirius smiled a very mischievous smile. "Maybe I can talk Andromeda into telling me the password."

"That would be wicked," James enthused.

"You two are going to end up getting caught if you keep sneaking around," Remus told them.

"So what if we do?" Sirius asked.

Remus shrugged. Neither Sirius nor James seemed to mind being in trouble much. Remus couldn't wrap his mind around that. He had always minded it. He hated knowing that anyone was upset with him. When he was younger, just a stern look from his parents was enough to make him cry. Being sent to his room would leave him morose for the rest of the day. Getting a smacking very nearly devastated him; it would take him days to get over it. He always worried that his parents wouldn't love him anymore if he misbehaved, although they had never said or done anything that would make him think that. If anything, they had said and done precisely the opposite, constantly reassuring him and telling him he was loved and cherished no matter what he did. Still, he feared their disappointment. He was bound and determined to never get into trouble at Hogwarts.

Sirius and James put their heads together and lowered their voices. Remus glanced up at the hourglasses on the wall. He had a feeling Gryffindor was about to lose its narrow lead in the race for the house cup.

That evening, Remus was to report to the hospital wing after his final class. If anyone asked, he was to say he was ill. Dumbledore had commissioned the building of a small shack in Hogsmeade and had a tunnel secretly built to it from the grounds. At the opening of the tunnel, an enchanted whomping willow stood guard, angrily slashing at anyone who came too close. Only Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey knew the location of the secret knot that would freeze the willow and allow Remus to pass through. The shack already had a reputation for being haunted, so Remus' howls during his transformation would be explained away as the screeches of the violent spirits who dwelled in that place.

Remus looked around the shack apprehensively. "Our basement doesn't have windows," he told Madame Pomfrey.

"They're enchanted. They're unbreakable, and if anyone manages to get close enough to look in, all they'll see is a dusty room with battered furniture. There's no way in or out except through that door," she said reassuringly, pointing at the door to the tunnel, "and it will hold. There's nothing to worry about. I'll come and fetch you in the morning."

Remus nodded his understanding, trying to tell himself there was nothing to be frightened of. Madame Pomfrey gave him a kind smile and left. Remus shut his eyes at the sound of the door locking from the outside. That had always been his least favorite moment at home as well. But his mother would sit outside the door, talking to him until he transformed and sticking her fingers underneath the door to give him something to cling to in his final lucid moments. Madame Pomfrey had merely bustled away, leaving him utterly and completely alone. He looked around the shack and suppressed a frightened sob as the final rays of the dying summer sun warmed his face, painting it golden red. He sat in the floor and watched the sunset, unable to do anything but wait for the agony that would soon consume him.

The gouges in the floor and walls were the only testament to what had happened during the night when Madame Pomfrey returned just after dawn the following morning. Remus lay in the floor, weak and sore from his transformation. His shoulder was bloody where he had bitten himself, and his cheek was swollen from his frenzied crashes into the wall. He remembered it only vaguely. He never remembered the wolf well come morning and could never decide if he was grateful for that or not.

"Your friend asked about you," Madame Pomfrey told him kindly as she tended to his shoulder.

"Peter?" Remus asked softly, so weak he could barely form the word.

"No, James Potter. He noticed you weren't feeling well and asked Professor McGonagall if you were in the hospital wing."

Remus said nothing. He made a small noise of intrigue in the back of his throat, but he couldn't muster much more than that. "Your parents are here as well. They're waiting for you in the hospital wing. There, you're all patched up. Do you feel strong enough to walk?"

He didn't, but he was determined to do it anyway. Usually, his father carried him up the stairs and put him in his bed, but he was eleven now and at Hogwarts. He was far too large to be carried. He pulled himself to his feet, but his knees collapsed beneath him.

"Oh dear!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, conjuring a stretcher.

"I can do it!" Remus said stubbornly, pulling himself to his feet once again. His legs were wobbly, but this time they held. He had to rest often, but he made the journey back to the school unaided. He was thankful for the temporary cooling sensation of the disillusionment charm Madame Pomfrey placed upon him before he stepped out onto the grounds. Once they were back in the castle, he allowed himself to be helped up the stairs.

Charlotte ran to him the moment he entered the hospital wing, and he was endlessly relieved when his dad lifted him up just the way he used to do. He was asleep in his father's arms within seconds. When he awoke, the afternoon sun was shining in the window, giving him strength. He opened his eyes to see his mother. She smiled at him warmly and caressed his cheek. "Voilà les beaux yeux."

Remus returned her smile. That was what she always said when he first woke up. "There are those beautiful eyes."

"Tu m'a manqué," Remus whispered, telling her how much he had missed her.

"I knew he'd wake up the second I stepped out," Daniel's voice said from doorway. "Isn't that always the way. Go to the loo and miss everything good."

"Tu as faim?" Charlotte asked. Remus nodded. He was starving.

"Are you hungry?" Daniel asked, coming over to Remus' bed.

Remus gave a small laugh. "Maman just asked me that," he informed his father.

"And what was your answer?"

"Very."

"Madame Pomfrey will be pleased to hear that. She's a bit intense, isn't she? Although it's clear she's taking caring for you very seriously. That's good. I think your mother and I will rest a little easier now that we know you're in good hands."

Daniel rose to tell Madame Pomfrey that her patient was awake. She bustled about happily, checking him over before handing him a tray of food. "Only a touch of exhaustion. Stay here tonight and we'll see how you feel tomorrow evening."

"Can't I go back to the dormitory?" Remus asked timidly.

"No, I'd prefer you were close, so I can ensure you're getting enough rest. It's tough on your body, you know. You'll need plenty of rest. Perhaps you can go back tomorrow evening. We'll talk about that then."

"Yes, ma'am," Remus said. He knew better than to ask about going to his classes the next day. If she was afraid to let him out of bed to sleep, she certainly wouldn't let him go to class. Madame Pomfrey bustled away and Remus tucked into his meal, telling his parents all about his classes and about his new friend, Peter, as he ate. After he had finished, he burrowed back under his blankets and slept. Sleep always felt so good after his transformation, and the best part was that he had twenty-nine whole days to enjoy before he had to do it again.

His parents stayed with him, waking him up from time to time whenever he had a visitor. He kept hoping for it to be Peter, but it never was. It was always a teacher. When the evening curfew came around, he finally realized Peter wasn't going to come. "He probably just had a busy day. I bet you he comes tomorrow," Charlotte said reassuringly, lovingly brushing a wisp of hair off his forehead.

Remus nodded. "Are you going to come back tomorrow?"

"I have to work, I'm afraid, but I can drop in before I go and after I get off. I could come by for lunch as well, if you want me to," Daniel told him.

Remus gave a weak smile. "No, that's okay. I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother, Tiger."

Remus shrugged in what he hoped was a grown-up way. "Nah. I need to get used to being on my own. I'm glad you came today, but I don't need you to come tomorrow. I'll probably be busy doing homework all day anyway."

"Tu es sûr?" Charlotte demanded, her face clearly showing her skepticism.

"Yes" he replied. "I'm sure. Good night."

"Good night, ma puce." Charlotte bent down and kissed Remus on the forehead. In return, he kissed her on the cheek.

"Good night, Remus," Daniel said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Sweet dreams," Charlotte told him as they turned to leave, and suddenly he was back to being alone. Luckily, he was also exhausted. He fell asleep before he had too much time to feel sorry for himself or wonder why in the world Peter had not come.

The next morning, he awoke early. Madame Pomfrey agreed to allow him to do some homework, though she said he still showed signs of slight exhaustion. Remus told himself that she was only trying to help him and tried not to resent her insistence that he stay in bed when he would much rather have gone to his classes like everyone else. Madame Pomfrey sent a house elf to fetch Remus' books while Remus' made a silent note to himself to gather his things and bring them to the hospital wing ahead of time when the next full moon came. He was just finishing up a Transfiguration essay when three figures entered the room.

Remus looked up, hoping to see Peter, but instead saw McGonagall ushering James and Sirius into the room.

"Hi!" James said cheerfully. "We came to see you."

"You two may stay as long as you like, but I expect you to be in your next class," McGonagall said sternly.

In unison, Sirius and James dutifully agreed. "Yes ma'am."

McGonagall gave the two boys a soft smile, her eyes gentle. It was clear she was fond of them already, and she appeared to be proud of them as well. "How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin?"

"Better," Remus said. She had been one of his visitors the previous day, but he had been so sleepy he could barely make himself speak to her. They had had a very brief conversation before he fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. He hoped she didn't think he was rude. "I'm sorry for falling asleep yesterday. I didn't mean to."

She gave him a reassuring smile. "It was hardly your fault. I was surprised you managed to stay awake as long as you did. I would much rather you rest than force yourself to stay up just to talk to me."

"Thank you," Remus replied, not sure what else to say.

"I'll see you in class tomorrow. Rest well." Then she turned and clicked out of the room.

James and Sirius approached quickly. Remus was surprised to see them there. "We've got her wrapped around our fingers, mate," Sirius whispered to James as they walked. James nodded his agreement. If Remus wondered about the statement, he didn't show it. He doubted he was meant to hear it anyway. James and Sirius perched on the bed next to Remus'.

"When are you coming back to the dormitory?" James asked. "Peter's been driving everyone batty worrying about you."

"Madame Pomfrey says she might let me come back tonight if she thinks I'm well enough. She's a little intense," Remus reported, echoing his father's words.

"That's one word for it," James said, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

"You're not still sore about the homesickness thing, are you?" Sirius asked him, giving him a playful push.

"Nah. At least we didn't get into trouble."

Seeing Remus' look of confusion, Sirius began to explain that James' "sickness" the week before hadn't been sickness at all, but a ploy to get the two of them out of trouble when they were caught sneaking around the corridors.

"Brilliant," Remus said breathlessly, awed by Sirius' quick thinking. Remus had never been a quick thinker, and he was never particularly courageous about misbehaving. He had great ideas, but he rarely acted on them. He called it being responsible, but really it was just that the threat of punishment frightened him. He much preferred to stay in everyone's good graces.

Sirius shrugged. "My parents go mental when I don't 'behave with decorum fitting my station' so I got good at making up stories when I was little."

"Behaving with decorum fitting your station?" James asked, raising his eyebrows. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means my parents think they're better than everyone else because they're Blacks, and I'm supposed to put on a good show in company so no one will know they've raised a hoodlum." Sirius winked at Remus as he explained. "But they have," he said.

"Hoodlums have more fun," Remus said.

Sirius stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. It was as though a wall had come down. Sirius' laughter was contagious, and as James and Remus joined in, Remus could almost feel his tension easing. When they caught their breath, his shyness had lifted. By the time they left, he had laughed so much his ribs hurt, and his spirits couldn't have been higher.

"It's time for us to leave. We have to go to class or McGonagall will probably thump us," James reported all to soon. "But, hey, if Pomfrey will let you, you should come sit with us at dinner."

Remus nodded happily. "I will. If she lets me." It wasn't until after they were gone that he remembered Peter at all.


	9. James: 22 September, 1971

James: 22 September, 1971

"I told you, James, I tried everything I could think of. Annie's not giving up that password." Their whispers could barely be heard over the hissing of the Potions, and they knew it. That was why Potions had become one of their favorite classes. That and it was easy to skive. Slughorn was nice, for a Slytherin, but he was very absent-minded, and he openly fawned over James and Sirius both. It didn't take them long at all to discover that they could get away with murder in his classes. Even if they were caught, he was likely to award them points if they could play their cards right and get him to laugh. They had almost taken it as a personal challenge, trying to see how far they could push him before he would punish them. So far, they had pushed very hard indeed and had not yet found the limits.

Indeed, the harder they pushed, the more he seemed to favor them. The previous Friday, he had even invited them to come to a private party in his quarters. James was excited, but Sirius wasn't too keen on the idea. For one this, Snape had also been invited. For another thing, as Sirius had patiently explained to James the following Saturday, Slughorn only invited those students who were particularly talented or well-connected, and the purpose of the party was not to give the students a good time, but to worm his way into their good graces so they would use those talents and connections to make him look good. Sirius, who had been expected to perform since a very early age, wanted no part of it. James, on the other hand, found the prospect of being in a posh upper-crust sort of club exciting.

"Professor Slughorn!" Snape cried, waving his hand in the air. "Black and Potter are talking!"

"We're talking about our potion," Sirius said, without blinking an eye. A moment before, their hair-regrowing potion had been the furthest thing from their minds. They had been discussing Lily Evans and the best way to get her to go out with James. He had been trying everything he could think of to get her attention. He passed her notes in class. He poked her when she sat close enough for him to do so. But for all his tries, she seemed to hate him just as much as she had on the train. The previous day, James had yanked her ponytail in Charms, and she turned around and hit him with a tickling hex. He couldn't for the life of him figure it out. Any other girl in their year would have been thrilled to death to have James Potter fancy her, but no matter what he did, Lily would not pay him the slightest bit of attention. She only seemed interested in gits like Snivellus.

"James thought it might be better to put the shrivelfig in before the beetroot, even though the directions say not to, but I told him we should just follow the directions."

"Very astute, Mr. Potter," Slughorn said approvingly. "Five points for Gryffindor! I believe you might just be one of those rare people who has an instinct for potions. Yes, adding the shrivelfig first would make it much more potent, but in this particular case, it would likely make it too potent, so it would be wise to simply follow the directions. And if you two have any more questions about potions, please direct them at me."

"Yes, sir. We're sorry, sir," Sirius said.

"That's quite all right. I do enjoy watching students get excited about their potions. Experimentation is how we make new discoveries, after all. But I would really rather you waited until you're a bit more advanced before you start experimenting too much."

"Snape is such a git," Sirius hissed the moment Slughorn's back was turned.

"How do you come up with that stuff so fast?" James asked, awed. He still couldn't get over Sirius' uncanny ability to get them out of trouble. He always seemed to know just how to play each teacher to get what he wanted. For a moment, James wondered if Sirius was playing him, too. No, he told himself emphatically. Sirius was his friend. His best friend. He wouldn't do that.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

"Did you know that about the beetroot and shrivelfig, or did you just get lucky?"

"I knew," Sirius whispered. "My tutor at home taught me a lot about potions. I've made this one loads of times. My father's losing his hair, and it makes him furious, but he's no good at potions, so he makes me brew this one for him all the time. I mixed up the beetroot and shrivelfig by accident once, and he ended up with hair down to his knees. He went mental, let me tell you. He thought I did it on purpose."

"What did he do?" James asked curiously. If he'd done that, his dad probably would have laughed, but there was something odd about the way Sirius talked about his family. He talked about Regulus a lot, but he never seemed to talk about his parents. The more James thought about it, the more he thought this might have been the first time he had ever heard Sirius even mention his father at all.

Sirius shrugged. "He shouted a lot. And I had to stay in my room for the next few days."

"Bad luck," James said sympathetically. "I hate it when I get sent to my room. That's the worst. It's so boring in there."

"We have to get even with Snivellus for tattling on us," Sirius said suddenly. "We can't let him get away with that."

"We could start a rumor that he has a third nipple."

Sirius snorted. "Not a bad idea. But I was thinking of something a little more direct."

"We could put a slug down his robes."

"Where are we going to get a slug in the middle of class?"

"Fair point. We could use diffindo to chop off his hair. Maybe we could even shave it."

"I'm pretty sure we'd get caught if we tried that. Besides, in order to do that, we'd have to actually touch his hair."

James shuddered with disgust.

"We need something we can do from afar," Sirius continued. James began to think, but his mind was drawing a blank.

"Why don't you throw a dungbomb in his cauldron and explode his potion?"

It was whispered so softly they barely heard it at first. They both looked up to see who had spoken and saw Remus staring intently at them, a hint of mischief in his warm, brown eyes.

"That's not a bad idea," James said approvingly.

"Not a bad idea? It's perfect! Remus, you're a genius!" Sirius enthused.

"And, of course, the only day I haven't got a dungbomb," James muttered. "Siri, do you have one?"

Sirius shook his head. "Damn," he said dejectedly, slumping back in his chair. "And it was such a good idea."

"I've got one," Remus offered, producing one from his pocket.

Sirius smiled widely and perked back up. "I like a boy who's well prepared!" Sirius reached out and took the dungbomb, handing it over to James. "James, would you care to do the honors?"

"Let's let Remus do it. It's his dungbomb, after all. And it was his idea," James replied. He took the dungbomb and handed it back to Remus, then watched happily as Remus set up a makeshift catapult with his spoon and the corner of his Potions book. The boy's aim was true. The dungbomb landed in Snivelly's potion with a "plop". A split second later, the entire thing exploded in Snape's face, covering him and several other students with the oozy stuff. Everyone who had been hit immediately began to sprout hair. Snape, who had taken the brunt of the blast, was already growing so much hair from his face that he couldn't see.

"Snape!" Slughorn snapped. "What in the world are you doing? Ten points from Slytherin."

Sirius began to laugh loudly. James loved Sirius' laugh. It was such a boisterous, joyful, contagious laugh that James couldn't help but join in.

"I didn't do it," Snape insisted, sounding as though he were on the verge of tears, although it was difficult to tell for sure. The hair was beginning to obstruct his mouth. "It was Potter and Black!"

"We didn't have anything to do with it," James protested. It was true, he told himself. Remus had done all the dirty work.

"We didn't," Sirius added softly, looking affronted at even the suggestion.

Slughorn wasn't listening. He was running around the room trying to free the students who had been hit from their excess of hair. Sirius began to snicker once again. James and Remus joined in. There was a fourth, wheezy laugh that James couldn't quite place until he realized it belonged to Peter. He had been sitting next to Remus the whole time and James had never noticed.

That evening at dinner, James and Sirius insisted that Remus sit with them. They had invited him the week before, after he got better, but he told them apologetically that he should sit with Peter. James could not for the life of him understand what someone like Remus saw in Peter, but he appreciated Remus' loyalty to his friend. Loyalty was something James valued very highly. It was important to him to be trustworthy, and to know that he could trust the people around him.

"Come on, Remus, come sit with us. People will want to hear about how you exploded Snape's cauldron!" James insisted, walking between him and Sirius in the corridor as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"You're not going to tell people it was me, are you?" Remus asked, blushing.

"Why wouldn't I?" James asked back. "Don't you want people to know it was you? Blimey, if I'd come up with an idea that good, I'd want the credit."

"I don't want to get into trouble," Remus mumbled, blushing even more deeply.

James eyed his new friend. He certainly did seem to worry about getting into trouble a lot. James didn't care so much about that. Getting into trouble had never bothered him overmuch. It wasn't particularly fun, but the mischief he got himself into nearly always was, so it was worth it to him. He and Sirius had already had detention twice, and it wasn't so bad. Boring as hell, but punishments usually were. The second one had been worse. He and Sirius were sent to do different tasks, so they couldn't even talk to one another. James wished there were a way for them to talk to one another when they were apart. That would be wicked. Maybe he'd ask his dad at Christmas if he knew of anything.

"You won't get into trouble," James said reassuringly. "No one's going to tell it was you. And if they do, Sirius and I will swear it wasn't. Come on, sit with us. Please. We want you to."

James grinned at Remus to show he really meant it. At home, no one could ever resist his grin. He had figured out an a very young age that a grin and an innocent "please" could get him almost anything he wanted. Particularly where his mother was concerned.

"I can't leave Peter alone," Remus said.

James looked behind him. Peter had been trailing them since the common room, eyes downcast, obviously listening to their every word. James felt a little sorry for Peter. He was determined to stand by Sirius, but he thought Sirius was being a little unfair to the little mouse. James wasn't overly fond of Peter, especially since the vicious attack on their mascot, but he didn't think he deserved to be hounded quite as much as Sirius seemed determined to do. He was glad he had managed to convince Sirius to start ignoring him.

"He can sit with us, too," Sirius said softly. He stopped walking and turned to Peter. "You can come sit with us, if you like."

Peter brightened noticeably. "Really?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, Remus is our friend, and you're his friend, so I guess that makes you our friend, too," Sirius explained.

James nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "We'd like it if you came to sit with us." He didn't exactly mean it, but his parents had always taught him to be polite and to be kind to everyone. Cruelty was one of the few things his father had no patience for. He was quite understanding about mistakes and pranks and jokes and silliness, but the moment James crossed the line and did something dangerous or cruel, the man's tolerance ran out. And he was not at all reluctant to be quite stern with James when it happened. It was the fastest way James knew of to get a spanking. And that was the one punishment he truly hated, not only because it was painful and frightening, but because he knew his dad hated to do it. Luckily for him, he was too old for it now.

Peter seemed beside himself as he sat with James and Sirius. They mostly ignored him, but James gave him an encouraging smile once in awhile. After Remus had finished telling the story about the potion - to uproarious laughter - Peter began to chatter almost nonstop. Sirius was obviously annoyed by it, but he managed to hold his tongue. James set about trying to think of a way to Peter up before Sirius' patience ran out.

"Hey," he told the assembled crowd, struck by a sudden inspiration. "Have you heard that Severus Snape has three nipples?"

The laughs and shouts of "Ew" and "gross" and "how do you know that?" drowned Peter out, and the story Sirius made up on the spoty for how they came to know such a thing carried them through the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Sirius and James went to the library. James needed to do research for a Herbology essay due the next day, and Sirius wanted to scope out the girls. Sirius had the highest marks in all their classes but, as far as James could tell, he never did much homework. He either wasn't doing it, which seemed unlikely considering his marks, or he was pounding through it at an inhuman pace. "Aren't you going to work on your essay?" James asked him.

"I finished it already," Sirius replied nonchalantly.

"How can you have finished it already? It was only just assigned yesterday."

"I finished it yesterday. Unlike you, I don't procrastinate."

"I never saw you working on it."

"I worked on it."

"Don't you have any homework?"

"I have a little bit of Astronomy left, but I don't feel like doing it right now. I'll get to it. Look at that Slytherin girl. Do you think she's pretty?"

"I know her. That's Victoria Crabbe. Her great-grandfather works at St. Mungo's with my dad. He's a really respected healer."

"Is she nice?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know her that well. Why do you want to know?"

"She's not very pretty. I think I'll go talk to her."

"Why would you want to talk to a girl who isn't pretty?"

"Because I'm very pretty, and she'll be so flattered that someone so very pretty as me is talking to her that she'll fall madly in love with me inside of ten minutes. You watch and see if she doesn't." He rose and walked over to Victoria Crabbe. He grabbed the seat next to her and turned it backward, sitting in it casually. James watched them long enough to see Victoria begin to blush and bat her eyelashes. He didn't understand Sirius sometimes. He sighed and got up to find his Herbology books.

When he returned, Sirius was waiting for him, rocking his chair carelessly on two legs. "I got the Slytherin password," he commented breezily.

"How'd you do that?"

"Victoria gave it to me just now. I told you I'd have her in love with me inside of ten minutes." Sirius smiled.

Excitement surged through James' stomach. "That's why you wanted to talk to her? You're wicked!" he exclaimed.

Sirius smiled wider. "I know."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that. I think we should sneak down there tonight after everyone's asleep and..." They put their heads together and began to whisper feverishly.

The next morning, Snape didn't show up to breakfast. He didn't show up for his first class, either. In fact, he didn't show up at all until dinnertime, when he emerged wearing a hideous hat that looked as though it had once belonged to an old woman.

"Wonder what's up with him," Peter commented.

James and Sirius shared a knowing look, each of them barely suppressing a smile.

"What did you two do?" Remus asked warily.

"Us?" Sirius said innocently. "Why, nothing, of course."

"Why in the world would you think it was us?" James asked, mimicking Sirius' innocuous tone.

"Because you two hate Snape," Remus explained.

James feigned shock. "Hate is such a strong word," he said in mock indignation.

His smile faded when Andromeda showed up. "Budge up, you two," she ordered. Remus and Peter quickly scooted to make room for her between them. She fixed Sirius with a glare. "I know it was you," she said sternly.

"What was me?" he asked, never blinking an eye.

"Snape's hair didn't curl and turn pink on its own. Someone did that to him, and Victoria Crabbe told me you weaseled the password out of her yesterday. She was very hurt when she realized that was the only reason you were talking to her. You should be ashamed of yourself, Sirius. You know better than to use people like that."

Sirius began to snicker. James snickered along with him as they began to elbow one another. "Oh, so you were part of this too, eh, Potter? I ought to put you both in detention."

James knew full well he was giving himself away, but he couldn't stop laughing, thinking of Snape's hair. To make matters worse, at that very moment, Snape's hideous hat flew high into the air. The entire hall erupted into laughter. James saw Peter hastily putting his wand away, winking at James. James winked back. He had clearly misjudged little Peter. He looked to see if Andromeda had noticed Peter's quick wandwork. She clearly had not.

Sirius was laughing loudly, his head thrown back, his face clearly showing his mirth.

"If you two don't apologize and put his hair back how it was right now, I'm going to tell McGonagall," Andromeda hissed.

"Go ahead and tell her. We don't care," Sirius said through his laughter. "She can't do anything to ruin this moment. Just look at him, Annie. You have to admit it's funny."

She turned to look and turned back to Sirius and James, who were lost in laughter once more. "It is not funny. It's..." What it was, they never heard, because she let out a snort of laughter. "It's not funny!" she insisted, but she couldn't keep from giggling. Soon, she had completely stopped trying to scold and was doubled over with laughter just like everyone else in the hall. Everyone, that was, except for Severus Snape and Lily Evans. Snape's eyes filled with tears and he ran from the hall. Lily jumped up and ran after him. James saw them go and stopped laughing as quickly as he had begun. His stomach tied into tight, envious knots as he stared out the door they had just exited. Suddenly, nothing about the situation seemed very funny at all.


	10. Sirius: 2 October, 1971

Sirius: 2 October, 1971

Sirius was sulking as only Sirius could.

"I still don't understand why I have to go out with her," he huffed, his arms crossed petulantly over his chest.

"Because you told her you would. Now stop pouting," Andromeda told him hastily. They were in an empty classroom, where she was straightening the robes she had somehow acquired for him.

"I don't see why I have to wear dress robes. We're not even leaving the grounds. How did you even get dress robes on such short notice anyway?"

"I wrote to Uncle Alphard and asked him to get you some, and you have to wear them because you want to look respectable."

"No, I don't. I'm only doing this because you're making me."

"Are you always this belligerent?"

"Yes."

Andromeda narrowed her eyes at her cousin and smacked him playfully on the arm. "Liar."

Sirius threw his hands up in frustration. "Why'd you ask me if you already knew the answer?"

Andromeda sighed. "I've got half a mind to put you in detention."

Now it was Sirius' turn to narrow his eyes. "You wouldn't do that."

"I might," she said, crossing her arms over her chest

"You won't," he replied, mimicking her stance.

"I could," she retorted, moving her hands to her hips.

"But you won't," he said, putting his own hands on his hips and imitating the stern look she was shooting him perfectly.

For a moment, he thought she might laugh. She sighed again instead. "Just be polite. She's a very nice girl."

"She's a Slytherin."

"I'm a Slytherin."

"But you're you!"

"And she's her! What's that got to do with anything?"

"You're not like other Slytherins."

"How many other Slytherins do you know, besides the ones you're related to?"

"I know Snape, and he's foul."

"Well, that's true enough, but there are foul people in every house."

"Not in Gryffindor."

"What about that Pettigrew kid you hate so much? The one who decapitated Reg's dragon?"

"We're friends now."

"Oh? When did that happen?"

"A few days ago," Sirius said absently, brushing at a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. It was really getting to be time for him to have a haircut. His mother never let his hair get very long, but he had always thought he'd look good with hair down to his shoulders. It occurred to him very suddenly that he could let it grow here and no one would stop him. At least, not until he went home for Christmas. Then his mother would probably attack him and chop it all off.

"Well, if you can make friends with him, you can be nice to Victoria for one afternoon," Andromeda replied, running her fingers through his hair to style it.

"But I don't want to be nice to Victoria," Sirius whinged, jerking his head away.

Another sigh. "Sirius," Andromeda said, a warning in her tone. "Just stop arguing and behave yourself."

"I always behave myself," Sirius informed her, holding his head up high. "Haven't you been listening to all the teachers? I'm a little angel."

At that, Andromeda did laugh. "You're a hooligan. They just don't know you yet."

"You love me," he told her.

"Of course I love you. Doesn't change the fact that you're a hooligan. Now get downstairs. She's waiting for you." Andromeda hugged him briefly before she spun him around and sent him out of the room with a small but emphatic shove. He turned and shot her his best grin before scampering away, leaving her standing in the middle of the classroom shaking her head and muttering about how she'd never have children.

Sirius shuffled down the stairs, pulling at the neck of his robes. He hated dress robes. Their only purpose was to make a person look better than they really are, and he had no patience for those sorts of games. His philosophy was that a person should just be themselves all the time and not worry about what other people thought. He never did understand the lengths adults would go to to impress one another. He understood the things they would inflict upon their children even less. He couldn't count the number of times his parents had carted him out to show off for their friends. They would brag loudly about how smart he was and how talented, when all they told him behind closed doors was that he was stupid and worthless. He thought he might have hated the false compliments even more than the insults. At least the insults were honest. The compliments were only lies designed to make other people feel inferior.

As for his so-called date with Victoria Crabbe, he saw little point in that charade either. She had to be aware that he only talked to her to get the Slytherin password. At first, Sirius refused to go out with her at all. Andromeda had threatened him with all sorts of horrible things that he knew full well she'd never do, each more desperate than the last: from taking a ludicrous number of points to putting him in detention to writing his mother. In a moment of desperation, she even threatened to haul him over her knee. Sirius called her bluff on each idle threat. He thought it might be possible to push her far enough that she really would take a few points or give him detention, but he did not for one moment believe that she'd really write his mother or smack him. She knew his history far too well to do either of those things.

In the end, she simply decreed that she wouldn't speak to him anymore until he "did the right thing". At first, he thought that was a bluff as well, but after two days of being ignored, he began to miss her and relented. Andromeda was his favorite cousin after all, and one of the few people in his life who ever said kind things to him that she actually meant. He didn't like being cut off from her. He was already beginning to worry about what Hogwarts would be like after she graduated.

"Hi," Victoria said shyly when Sirius arrived in the Entrance Hall. Sirius looked around, hoping they didn't run into anyone important. He didn't want anyone to know that his first date at Hogwarts was with a Slytherin who wasn't even pretty. He wondered briefly what it must be like to know you were a person's pity date, and he felt a surge of sympathy for her. She had done her hair up nicely and put on makeup. Too much of it, in Sirius' opinion, although he would never have told her that. She was wearing floaty robes that were almost the same color blue as her eyes. Now that he noticed them, she did have very pretty eyes. Really, she wasn't so bad at all.

"You look very pretty," he told her in his most sincere tone. No one in the world, save a very well-trained legilimens, would ever have suspected he was lying.

She flashed him a very crooked-toothed smile and ruined the effect. "Thank you. You look very handsome."

Sirius was well aware of how good he looked, but he resisted the urge to say so. Instead, he smiled at her and thanked her politely. He was a Black, after all, and a Black was always gracious. Even when the circumstances were less-than-ideal.

"So, what are we going to do?" she asked softly.

"I thought we could go watch the quidditch team practice."

"Oh." Her face fell.

"You don't want to do that?" he asked. He couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to watch quidditch.

"No, it's not that. It's just... I don't really like quidditch."

Sirius looked at her as though she had just sprouted a second head. "How can you not like quidditch?"

Victoria shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't. I never did. I don't like sports at all, really."

"Oh, well, we can go down to the lake then."

"Okay," she agreed. They went to the lake, where he taught her how to skip stones. She wasn't particularly good at it. When they grew bored with the stones, he suggested climbing trees, but she didn't want to. Then he suggested exploring the Forbidden Forest, but she didn't want to do that either. Nor did she want to tease the giant squid, pester the whomping willow, or sneak to Hogsmeade.

Sirius was particularly hoping she'd want to do the latter.

Only a few days before, he and James had discovered a secret passageway behind a statue of a one-eyed witch. Sirius had managed to charm Peeves, the Hogwarts poltergeist, into telling them the password and that it led to the Honeydukes basement in Hogsmeade. They planned to go down it right away, but no sooner had they stepped into the passageway than Peeves began to shout at the top of his voice about students being out of bed. Sirius and James scrambled back into the corridor and only narrowly escaped being caught by McGonagall. Ever since then, Sirius had been dying to explore it but had not yet had a chance. He had also been dying to get even with Peeves, but he didn't have the slightest idea how to go about doing such a thing.

"We'll get into trouble," Victoria said, as though the thing were unimaginable.

"So?" Sirius asked. He doubted anyone would rat him out to his parents for being out of bounds, and what did he care about detention? It was so tame compared to the things his father usually did to him that it hardly felt like a punishment at all. An hour of scrubbing trophies was a piece of cake, especially when he spent most of that hour faffing about with James.

Finally, Sirius suggested sneaking down to the kitchens, but Victoria wasn't hungry, so they sat in the grass, where she taught him how to make wreaths from daisies. She made him a crown of them to wear and put it on his head, giggling. He pretended to like it and made her one as well. Then they sat by the lake and watched the sunset as she rested her head on his shoulder before they made their way inside and separated at the door to the Great Hall.

"I had fun," she said.

"Me, too," he told her, thankful that he was such a talented liar. She was nice enough, but it had still been one of the longest afternoons of his life.

"Maybe we can do it again sometime?" she asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Sirius replied noncommittally.

"Well, see you," she said, looking at him expectantly.

"See you," he said. He smiled at her and gave a little wave as he turned toward the Gryffindor table, not seeing the look of disappointment on her face.

"Are you king of the forest?" Peter asked as he sat down.

"Hrm?" Sirius asked distractedly.

"You've got flowers in your hair," Remus explained.

Sirius reached up. He forgotten that the daisy crown was still on his head. He pulled it off and placed it on the table before filling his plate with food.

"How was your date?" Remus asked.

"It was okay," Sirius told him between bites. "Only she doesn't like quidditch."

"How could anyone not like quidditch?" James asked, his shock clearly showing on his face.

"That's what I said!" Sirius replied. "She wants to go out again, but I don't think so. She didn't want to do anything fun. All she wanted to do was skip stones and make daisy chains."

"Did you suggest exploring the forest?" James asked.

"Of course."

"What about teasing the squid?" Peter put in.

"What part of 'she didn't want to do anything fun' did you not understand?" Sirius asked his friend, his eyes twinkling.

"That's a shame. When I date a girl, I want her to be the sort of girl who likes to do fun things, like camping and hiking and flying and stuff," James said resolutely.

"Do you think Evans likes those things?" Sirius asked.

James shrugged. "I don't know. Oi! Evans!" he bellowed down the table, leaning backward to look at her.

"What?" she called, leaning backward as well.

"Do you like to go camping?"

"I don't know. I've never been, but I always thought it sounded fun."

"I love camping. You should go out with me!"

"Not for all the gold in Gringotts!"

James sat back up and shook his head. "Mental, that one," he told his friends. "Imagine not wanting to go out with me."

"I thought she liked Snape," Peter said. "Besides, you're too good for her. She's a muggle-born. And I heard her family's really poor."

Sirius sucked in his breath as James jerked his head up from his plate, a look of pure outrage contorting his features. Remus dropped his face into his palm. "Il ne pense jamais," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Sirius was surprised to know that Remus could speak French. He also agreed heartily with Remus' assertion that Peter never seemed to think.

"Jamais," Sirius agreed.

Remus caught Sirius' eye. "You speak French?" he asked brightly in French.

"Fluently," Sirius replied, also in French. "I've studied it since I was young. My mother says all the well-bred boys have to know French, but my tutor says my accent is horrible. How did you learn it?"

"My mother's from France."

"Oh, really? Where?"

"Normandy. Deauville, to be exact."

"I've been to Deauville! It's lovely. I like the beach, but my father likes the horse races. We've been all over France, actually. Brittany's my favorite."

"I've been there, too. I like the medieval houses in Rennes. Have you been to Rennes?"

"I have. And St. Malo. Have you ever been there?"

"Yes, and we were trapped on Grand Bé when the tides came in."

"We were trapped on Grand Bé once, too. Wouldn't it be interesting if we were there at the same time and never knew it?"

"Are you two planning to start speaking English again at any point?" James asked loudly.

"You could always learn French," Sirius suggested.

James shook his head emphatically. "My father speaks Gobbledygook," he said happily. "He always said he'd teach me if I wanted to learn, but I never did."

"I'd love to learn Gobbledygook," Dirk Cresswell interrupted to say. He and Michael Wheeler were sitting nearby. They had made a habit of listening in to Sirius and James' conversations, and Sirius really wished they'd stop. Sometimes those conversations were intended to be private, after all.

"It's very different from French," Sirius said skeptically.

"I don't want to learn French," Dirk replied.

"Why not?" Remus asked. "It's a beautiful language."

The conversation continued to revolve around which people wanted to learn which languages, and Sirius took the opportunity to study Peter. He wondered if Peter even knew that Sirius and Remus had just saved him from being shouted at. Probably not, he decided. He still wasn't entirely sure he liked the small, mousy boy, although he respected that Peter was now a part of his group of friends whether he liked it or not. He had to admit Peter had grown on him since the incident with Snape the week before. He had been as surprised as anyone to learn that Peter was the one who made Snape's hat fly off in the middle of dinner.

"Peter did that?" he asked James skeptically in the common room that evening.

James nodded.

"Our Peter?"

Another nod.

"Peter the dragon slayer?"

James snorted and quirked his eyebrows. "Dragon slayer?"

"I like giving people nicknames," Sirius explained.

"I don't think 'Dragon Slayer' is a good nickname. Makes it sound like what he did was brave. How about mascot murderer?"

"Nah, that doesn't have the right ring to it? What about 'Worm Guts'?"

"'Worm Guts' is good." Sirius and James had been referring to Peter as "Worm Guts" ever since. He clearly hated the moniker, but he stopped complaining once it became clear the others had no intention of dropping it. He seemed to not be able to believe his luck at having somehow landed in the inner circle of the two most popular boys in their year. It was obvious he didn't want to rock the boat. Sirius didn't blame him. He and James were amazing, after all, and Peter was decidedly dull. There was still something about Peter that rubbed him the wrong way, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. He was slowly deciding that he had just gotten off the wrong foot with Peter and had been too hard on him. Either way, he had to admit it was fun to have Peter around. He was good for an ego boost if nothing else. He seemed to think James and Sirius hung the moon, and that suited James and Sirius just fine.

Remus did not call Peter "Worm Guts". Instead, he insisted on calling the boy by his name. Remus seemed to genuinely like him, something Sirius couldn't quite wrap his mind around. He still couldn't make any sense of the way the Remus and James would defend Peter's cruelty, insisting that it was accidental. Sirius simply could not believe that a person could be that clueless, although he had to admit that Peter was doing a bang up job of fooling everyone.

Sirius was unused to being around unintelligent people. In his world, every interaction was a battle and each move his parents made seemed carefully calculated to wound someone: the children, their enemies, one another. Accidental cruelty simply did not happen in the Black house. It was always malicious, meticulously designed to be stealthy, brutal, and quick. His mother, especially, had mastered the subtle art of the impromptu verbal blitzkrieg.

She seemed to always choose his happiest moments to lay him bare. When he was proud of himself for having done well, that was when she would remind him that someone else could do it better. When he was lost in some joyful activity, that was the moment she would choose to tell him what a disappointment he was. Christmases and birthdays were her favorite days to go on the offensive, and she was a master at choosing the moments when Sirius least expected it; the moments when he would be caught so off guard that the damage was done long before he managed to understand what had just happened.

That was how he had come to develop such a quick wit. It had been a survival tactic to claim tiny victories out of an impossible situation. If he couldn't stop her from screaming at him, he could at least get in a few zingers himself. If he couldn't save Regulus from being beaten, he could at least make his little brother laugh after it was over. If he couldn't force his two sadistic cousins to leave him alone, he could at least cut them to the quick and stop them that way. Yes, Sirius had been well-versed in the lessons of cruelty and emotional warfare. As far as he could see, Peter clearly had been as well. That he had managed to fool Remus and James so well only served to prove it.

That was the piece that bothered Sirius more than anything: James and Remus were both innocent souls, ignorant of the evil that could lie in the hearts of men. Sirius had never been allowed innocence - at least, not for as long as he could remember. He recalled his father teaching him hexes when he was four and handing him a wand, expecting him to use them. He practiced most of them on Bella, particularly after she got her own wand and discovered she could use it outside of school, rules be damned.

The two of them used to have mini duels when the adults weren't looking. Sirius nearly always won. Bella was a talented duelist, but Sirius was better. Then she would get even by hexing him under the table in the middle of dinner. Sirius could not count the number of times he had been punished for knocking something over because she had hit his leg with a stinging hex. He got quite good at pickpocketing wands so he cast a shield charm and hex her back if necessary.

Once he got good enough at both hexes and pickpocketing that he was always prepared with a wand whenever she came over, the two of them called a truce by unspoken mutual consent. Sirius hoped that had not changed now that he was in Gryffindor. He had no desire to have any more duels with her. Ever. He may have been more talented, but she was nastier and far more willing to fight dirty. Underhanded tricks had never come easily to Sirius. He much preferred to face things directly.

"Sirius. Sirius! Hey! Sirius!" James called to him. "Are you listening to me?"

"What?" Sirius asked, coming out of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm listening."

"Then what were we talking about?" James asked him.

"Gobbledygook," Sirius reported obediently.

"We stopped talking about Gobbledygook five minutes ago. You've really been out of it, haven't you? After dinner, we're going to break into the school broom shed and take some chool brooms for a spin. Want to come?"

"We who?"

"Peter, Remus, and I. And you, if you want to."

"I wouldn't miss that for anything!" Sirius enthused. "I'm an excellent flyer, you know."

"You've mentioned that once or twice," Peter muttered.

"What was that, Worm Guts?" Sirius asked, a hard edge to his tone.

"Nothing," Peter said, a little more loudly. "You know, I think I'm going to sit this one out. I've got loads of homework."

"Suit yourself," James said with a shrug.

"Maybe I will as well," Remus added.

"No!" James protested. "You have to come with us. It was your idea!" Only Sirius saw the pained look that crossed Peter's face. For the second time that day, he felt an uninvited surge of sympathy. He knew quite well how awful it felt to watch someone you cared about openly favor someone else.

"You should both come," Sirius said. "It'll be fun." He looked straight at Peter. "I really want you to come."

Peter blushed slightly, but he also smiled. "Really? You want me to come?"

Sirius nodded, smiling encouragingly. "Of course we do. You're our friend. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"I don't know how to fly," he admitted.

"Then we'll teach you," Sirius said. "It's not that hard. Honestly, it isn't."

"Okay, I'll go," Peter agreed. Sirius thought the poor kid's face would break if he smiled any wider.

After dinner, they hid out in an empty classroom and waited for the Great Hall to empty. Technically, they wouldn't be out of bounds, and no one had ever specifically told them not to fly school brooms unsupervised, but they still knew they shouldn't. When the coast was clear, they ran outside, reveling in the freedom the night air gave them. They were nearly to the broomshed when they heard a deep voice shout across the grounds, "Just what do yeh think yeh're doing?"

They turned to see Hagrid, the oversized groundskeeper, coming toward them. James paled a touch. Sirius couldn't blame him. Hagrid was certainly an intimidating fellow. "Let me handle this," Sirius whispered to his friends. None of them uttered a single protest; they were all watching Hagrid with fear in their eyes.

"What are yeh doin' out here?" Hagrid asked sternly when he got close enough to see them. "Yeh're not supposed to be out here after dark."

"We didn't know," Sirius said, pasting his best innocent expression on his face. "We only wanted to see the quidditch pitch. We're excited about the match coming up, and we wanted to see where we'd be sitting."

"Yeh should be in the castle," Hagrid scolded, but Sirius could tell by his face he was preparing to let them off. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he had always been able to size people up quickly, and with stunning accuracy. Hagrid, he decided, was not the slightest bit threatening, despite his wild man looks. All Sirius had to do now was play him just right and-

"We were going to sneak into the broomshed!" Peter confessed, tears running down his face. "We're sorry. Please don't tell McGonagall."

"Peter! What the hell are you doing?" Sirius snapped, forgetting for a moment that Hagrid was standing right there.

"Watch yer mouth. Yeh're far too young ter be talkin' like that. And yeh lot certainly shouldn't be sneakin' inter the broom shed. Brooms are dangerous if yeh don' know how ter fly."

"But we do know," Sirius told him, taking another tactic. "My parents taught me. Do you like to fly? I bet you're a wonderful flyer."

"There's no broomstick in the world could hold me, but I did get to take a ride on a flying carousel horse once, and I've always dreamed of riding a dragon."

"Oh, do you like dragons?"

Hagrid grew misty-eyed. "Having a pet dragon has always been my dream."

"I love dragons, too. We have a dragon mascot in our dorm. His name's Gawain."

"Oh, yeh're the ones who started all that mascot business?"

"Yes," Sirius told him. "Actually, it was James. Well, we should probably be going. We don't want to be out after curfew. See you later, Mr. Hagrid. Come on, gentlemen." Sirius waved goodbye and charged off across the grounds as though he hadn't a care in the world. His bemused friends followed. They were already inside before Hagrid remembered he was supposed to be punishing them.

"You're really something, you know that," James told him, shaking his head as they headed up the stairs.

"Yep," Sirius said with a grin. "I do. Hey, you want to check out that secret passageway tonight?"

James brightened. "That would be brilliant!"

"What secret passageway?" Remus asked. Sirius told him about the statue of the one-eyed witch and what they had found there.

"I want to come," Peter said excitedly.

"I don't know," Sirius told him. "Are you going to rat us out every time we get caught doing something we shouldn't?"

"No," Peter said, stung. "I didn't mean to do that. I just panicked. Mr. Hagrid's scary."

Sirius smiled. He had Hagrid's number now; he was quite sure the man was a teddy bear underneath. If he played his cards right, he might even be able to make friends with him. Being friendly with the groundskeeper would come in quite handy, he was sure. Maybe tomorrow, he'd drop into Hagrid's hut for a visit and talk about dragons some more. That seemed to be the swiftest way to the groundskeeper's heart.

"Okay, you can come then. But you better not ever give us away again. Remus? Are you coming?"

"I don't know," Remus said warily. "That was a close call we just had."

"That doesn't matter," James retorted. "We didn't get into trouble, and that's the important thing. Come on, Remus. You worry too much. Live a little!"

"Oh, all right," Remus relented. "But if we get into trouble, I'm going to hold a grudge.

"Fair enough," Sirius agreed. But then, it was easy for him to agree when he knew Remus was bluffing.


	11. Peter: 3 October, 1971

Peter: 3 October, 1971

It was well after midnight before the last Gryffindor went to sleep and Peter and his friends found themselves alone in the common room.

His friends. It felt good to Peter to think of them that way. He still wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but he wasn't going to question it. Somehow, James and Sirius had decided that he, Peter Pettigrew, the boy no one liked, the invisible child, the son of two loonies, was worth being friends with. Peter was nearly beside himself with joy.

Peter was no fool. He was plenty aware that James and Sirius preferred Remus' company to his, but he hardly cared. He was one of the Marauders now. Friends with the most popular boys in school. Popular himself by association. Already, he had noticed a difference in the way others treated him and spoke to him. Now, people who were ignoring him only a few weeks ago behaved as though they wanted to be his friend. He was no longer sitting on the outside looking in; he was in the thick of things, and he loved it. It was where he had always known he belonged.

"You have to be quiet once we get outside," Sirius told Remus and Peter. Both boys knew that James and Sirius had made a habit of prowling the corridors after curfew, but Peter and Remus had never been invited along before tonight. "The teachers like to wander around at night and check on things from time to time. McGonagall's the worst. And Filch. James and I usually stay in the shadows by the wall so we can duck into a classroom if we need to."

"How often do you get caught?" Remus asked uncertainly. The look on his face said quite clearly that he did not want to accompany the group, but all his protests had been quickly pushed aside by either James or Sirius.

"Only the one time, and I got us out of it. There's nothing to worry about. I promise," Sirius assured him.

Remus gave a small nod, but Peter could easily tell that he was going to continue to worry.

'You're not still scared are you," James asked, a note of incredulity in his tone.

Remus straightened proudly. "I'm not scared."

"Me, neither," Peter asserted. Indeed, Peter was more excited than anything. He wanted a chance to redeem himself after their run-in with Hagrid earlier that evening, when Peter had panicked and accidentally given them away.

"You going to keep your mouth shut this time, Worm Guts?" Sirius asked, a smirk on his handsome face.

Peter scowled. "I really wish you'd stop calling me that."

"I really wish you'd stop snoring and keeping me awake nights," Sirius retorted. "You can't always get what you want."

James had the audacity to chuckle, and Peter glared at him. Peter generally liked James in his own right, but he still wasn't sure about Sirius. There was a harshness about him that made Peter nervous. He was funny, of course, and nice enough most of the time, but when he decided to put someone in their place, he did it with scathing gusto and very little warning. Peter feared him a little bit, and not least because he still vividly remembered the beating Sirius had given him over the stupid dragon.

Sirius also seemed to be having a negative effect on James. When Sirius wasn't around, James was one of the nicest people Peter knew, next to Remus, but the moment Sirius entered into the equation, James' cruel streak seemed to come out, and he became just as bad. Peter very much hoped the two of them would not manage to corrupt Remus, who was still easily Peter's favorite friend. There was a certain sweetness in Remus that seemed incorruptible. That, coupled with his inexplicable inner strength, made Peter quite sure that Remus would be able to hold his own against these two boys. And hopefully defend Peter in the process.

Peter followed as Sirius and James climbed out of the portrait hole and flitted behind them from classroom to classroom. They met no one in the corridors, and Peter was glad for it. He didn't want to risk being caught. He never would have admitted it, especially not to his friends, but he was a little bit afraid of McGonagall's cane.

On the sixth floor, Sirius led them behind a tapestry and onto a secret staircase.

"This is incredible. I never knew this was here," Peter exclaimed, impressed.

"James and I found it the first week," Sirius said nonchalantly. Peter couldn't decide if he meant it as an insult or not. Knowing Sirius, he probably did.

At the bottom of the staircase, they met a solid wall.

"Bother, a dead end," Peter mumbled, feeling a little happy that Sirius had led them wrong. Part of Peter was itching to Sirius taken down a notch.

"No, it isn't," Sirius said. "Haven't you figured out yet that things are never what they seem around here? Watch."

Peter nursed his wounded pride as Sirius stuck his head surreptitiously through the seemingly-solid wall. A moment later, he disappeared through it completely, motioning for the others to follow him. Peter followed obediently, closing his eyes a moment as he came to the wall. When he opened them, he was in the fourth floor corridor, only a few yards from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

The statue of the one-eyed witch was precisely where James and Sirius had said it would be. Sirius looked around tentatively and sneaked forward, putting his wand to the witch's hump. He whispered something Peter could not hear, and the hump moved aside, revealing only blackness beyond. Sirius turned to the others and grinned before dropping down into the passageway. James followed immediately after. Remus and Peter looked at one another, not sure who should go next.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Remus whispered. "We don't know where this leads."

"I thought they said it leads to the Honeydukes basement," Peter whispered back.

"That's what Peeves said, but do you really think we can trust Peeves?"

James stuck his head out of the witch's hump. "Are you two coming?" he whispered. "We haven't got all night!"

For a moment, Peter thought Remus was going to refuse to go, but just then a shadow appeared around the corner. Someone was coming. Peter and Remus scrambled into the passageway and the witch's hump closed up behind them, thrusting them into darkness. Peter's heart began to beat very quickly. He really hoped the others wouldn't discover that he was still a little bit afraid of the dark

"Lumos," Sirius whispered, lighting the tip of his wand. The others quickly followed suit, except for Peter, who had forgotten his wand.

"How could you forget your wand?" Sirius scolded.

"I didn't think I'd need it," Peter explained.

"Well, you'd better just hope you don't, Worm Guts," Sirius said, shaking his head in disgust.

"Let it go, Sirius," James said, a look of barely contained exhilaration on his face. "He'll remember it next time. Won't you, Peter?"

Peter nodded exuberantly, thankful for James' interference. He seemed to be one of only very few people Sirius would listen to.

"Just think how great it'll be to sneak to Hogsmeade any time we like," James continued to enthuse, making his way forward so excitedly he was nearly hopping.

"And we can help ourselves to the sweets at Honeydukes," Peter added excitedly. This was the piece of their mission he was looking forward to the most.

The others stopped their progress and turned as one to look at Peter. "We're not thieves," Sirius said harshly.

Peter stopped walking as well, not liking the accusing looks on their faces. "I didn't mean steal it. I just meant..."

"We know what you meant," James said, just as harshly as Sirius.

"We can leave money on the counter for them or something," Peter said quickly, wishing suddenly that he could take back his words.

"That's actually not a bad idea," James said, turning to Sirius.

"I don't like it," Remus said firmly. "If that's why we're going, I'm out." He began walking back the way they had come.

James grabbed his arm. "No, don't leave!" he pleaded. "We're just going to check out Hogsmeade. That's all. We won't touch anything in Honeydukes. We promise. Right, Sirius?" Sirius nodded. "Right, Peter?"

"Right," Peter agreed, thankful that no one could see how deeply he was blushing in the low light. He felt a little jealous of Remus for being unafraid to stand up to Sirius and Remus. He was also jealous of the way they seemed to genuinely want him around. Peter was quite sure that they wouldn't protest if he were the one threatening to leave.

Remus stood as though in thought for a moment before agreeing to proceed. Then they all turned toward Hogsmeade with hopeful looks on their faces.

When they arrived at the trapdoor that would let them into the Honeydukes cellar, James exited the passageway first, cautiously traveling up the stairs. Sirius followed next, then Remus, and finally Peter.

James turned to the others and motioned for them to be silent. The four of them had decided that James should lead the way out of the store. His parents were friends with the Flumes, the owners of Honeydukes, so if he were caught, he would have the best chance of convincing them to let him go. He also didn't seem overly concerned about his parents finding out, something Sirius and Remus both clearly dreaded.

"My dad would probably just think it's funny," James told them. Sirius and Remus were openly envious. Peter wasn't sure if his father would care or not. Probably not. Emory never bothered with Peter much. He was always too busy. There had been several times when Peter deliberately misbehaved just to see if his father would do anything about it; the only time he ever did was when the misbehavior involved disturbing or upsetting Delilah. Aunt Miriam was the only person who ever really dealt with any of his misbehavior, but she was complete pants at it. She'd usually just fuss and sometimes make him stand in the corner for a few minutes as though he were four instead of eleven.

James tiptoed through the maze of boxes and to the top of the stairs. The door creaked as he opened it, and he froze, cringing. He had warned them all that the Flumes lived over the shop, so they would have to be very quiet. When no sound came from above them, James breathed a sigh of relief and stepped through the doorway. A moment later, he stuck his arm back through the door and gave his friends a thumbs-up. They followed him silently. Sirius was nearly to the door and Remus halfway up the stairs when Peter tripped on a loose floorboard and crashed into a nearby stack of boxes. Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans scattered in every direction as the boxes hit the ground with a resounding crash. Peter froze, looking at his friends with horror on his face.

Their faces matched his own, particularly after they heard a man shout, "Who's down there?"

Sirius reacted the quickest. "James, get back down here!" he hissed, turning to make his way back down the stairs. "Get back in the passageway!" he ordered in a commanding whisper. Peter turned to go back to the passage and stepped on a bean. His legs flew out from under him and he landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. Remus and Sirius stopped to help him up as he struggled to catch his breath just as James came flying down the stairs. His legs flew out from under him as well and he landed hard on his bottom on the lowest step. He yelped once before silencing himself and coming to join the others, rubbing at his seat. They reached the trap door and shut it quietly just as the basement light switched on.

The four boys ran down the passageway. James was the fastest and quickly took the lead, surpassing Peter, then Remus, then Sirius in turn. He arrived first at the one-eyed witch and went up the passageway, but quickly jumped back down, his footsteps reverberating on the stone floor of the passage.

"They know someone's out of bed. Slughorn nearly saw me!" James was telling the others in a whisper when Peter arrived in a half run, huffing and puffing.

"If the Flumes contacted the school, it's only a matter of time before they think to check this passageway," Sirius said.

"They might not know about it," Remus suggested. "It was pretty well concealed."

"They'd have to be idiots not to know about it," Sirius snapped.

"I don't think they do," James said, ignoring Sirius' annoyance. "I've been down in their basement loads of times and I never noticed it. They never mentioned it, either. We might be safe here."

"Until they decide to go house to house and find out who's out of bed that way," Remus said darkly.

"Be quiet everyone. I need to think," Sirius said, walking toward the passage entrance. "I wish I knew how to do a disillusionment charm."

"Do you know the incantation?" James asked.

"If I knew the incantation, I'd be able to do the spell, now, wouldn't I?" Sirius said curtly.

"Oi!" James protested. "Don't take it out on me. It's not my fault we're in this mess."

Sirius stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed and nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. You're not the one I'm mad at." He turned to Peter. "You, on the other hand..."

"It was an accident!" Peter cried defensively. And it had been. He never in a million years would have purposely given them away. Besides, if he were going to give them away, he would have picked a much less painful way to do it. The wooden box he fell into had left splinters in his hand, not that any of his friends had bothered to notice. Or care.

"Shh!" James hissed. "Shut up! They'll hear you!"

"I don't think there's anything for it," Sirius whispered. "We're going to have to just go and hope for the best." Sirius stuck his ear to the inside of the hump. "I don't hear anything. Let's hope that means the coast is clear." He pushed at the hump and it slid open beneath his fingers. Peter watched as Sirius clambered out of it. James took a deep breath and followed. Remus hesitated, but only for a moment, before he followed as well. Peter took a deep breath, marching up to the opening. When he landed on his feet in the familiar corridor, he looked around. The coast appeared to be clear, but the others were nowhere in sight. He looked around for them, a twinge of fear in his stomach.

"Psst!" he heard. He turned toward the sound and saw Sirius' head sticking out of the spot in the stone wall that marked the secret staircase they had come by. A moment later, Sirius' eyes went wide. "Hurry!" he whispered urgently. Peter turned to see what Sirius was seeing and noticed a shadow coming around the corner. He turned back to the wall to see that Sirius was gone, and Peter couldn't remember exactly where the spot had been. He ran to the wall, feeling at it with his hands, praying for it to give way.

He was still feeling for the entrance when Filch rounded the corner and saw him. "Well, well," Filch said nastily. "What have we here?"

"Run!" Peter heard Sirius whisper from only inches away. He followed the sound of Sirius' voice and stepped into the secret stair to find his friends glaring at him. "You weren't supposed to run here, you moron!" Sirius hissed. "Come on! We have to move!" He began to run up the staircase. The others followed.

"There was nowhere else to hide," Peter explained as they ran.

"Then you should have just let yourself get caught instead of giving the rest of us away. That's what I'd have done," James replied bitterly.

"You can't hide. I know exactly where to find you," Filch's voice floated up the stairs. Sirius ran faster. Peter thought his lungs would burst before they got back to their dormitory. He had never run so much in his entire life. They emerged from the sixth floor tapestry almost as one and ran straight into something solid. They looked up; it was Hagrid.

"Oh, it's yeh four again," Hagrid said. "Yeh're in a heap o' trouble."

"Mr. Hagrid, you have to hide us. Please," Sirius began. "Filch is right behind us."

"Yeh shouldn't be out of bed."

"Then punish us if you have to, but don't let Filch catch us. He's foul. And he hates dragons. I heard him say so. He says if the ministry had any brains, they'd drive all dragons to extinction."

"What?" Hagrid roared. Sirius darted past him into an empty classroom. Peter and the others followed quickly. If they had learned nothing else over the past few days, they had learned well that they should always follow Sirius' lead.

"He'll defend us. You just watch," Sirius whispered when they were safely in the classroom with the door shut behind them.

Sirius dropped to his knees to watch through the keyhole. The other three had a brief scuffle to see who could look out the crack in the door. James and Remus won, leaving Peter to press his ear to the door and listen.

"Where did they go?" Filch wheezed.

"Who?" Hagrid asked.

"See, I told you," Sirius whispered.

"Shh, I want to hear," James whispered back.

"Four boys just came up this way."

"I haven' seen a thing," Hagrid said. Peter thought he must have been imagining the cold edge in his voice.

"I know they came this way!" Filch cried. "There wasn't anywhere else for them to have gone!"

"They couldn' have come this way. I'd have seen 'em, an' I didn'. Are yeh sure they didn' sneak off somewhere else?"

There was silence for a moment. "Maybe I passed them in the passageway?" Filch asked, sounding unsure of himself.

"Must have done," Hagrid agreed.

It was at that instant that Peter decided the fates were out to get him. Without any warning, he sneezed.

Three irate boys glared at him as Filch's thin voice asked, "What was that?"

"That was me," Hagrid said. "I've caught a bit of a cold." He let out a loud, theatrical sneeze.

"It sounded like it was coming from in there," Filch said suspiciously.

"He's going to catch us," Remus groaned. "We're going to be caned."

"We won't be caned," Sirius told him reassuringly. "Andromeda says they hardly ever cane people. Only for really dangerous things. Besides, he's not going to catch us." Sirius put his wand to the door and muttered "verroullaporta".

"What was that?" Peter asked.

"I locked the door. Filch won't be able to get in. He's a squib."

"How do you know that?" James questioned.

Sirius shrugged. "I just know."

"What if he goes and gets someone else?" Peter asked.

"Then we'll sneak away while he's gone," Sirius explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world just as the door began to rattle. The boys all took a step back from it.

"I know you're in there. Come out right now!" Filch ordered. Peter bit his lip, but the door held. "We'll just see what Professor McGonagall has to say about this!" Filch exclaimed. "Watch this door. Don't let them out."

"O' course," Hagrid agreed. A moment later, Hagrid's voice traveled across the threshold. "He's gone. It's safe to come out."

"Ahohomora," Sirius said, pointing his wand at the door. It swung open, revealing Hagrid on the other side.

"Get to yer common room right now," he ordered. "And yeh should go straight to bed. Don't think I'll get yeh out of trouble again!"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Hagrid," Sirius said, nodding obediently, a look of contrition on his face. Then he turned and ran. The others followed him. A few minutes later, they were in the common room, out of breath and laughing. Now that they were safe, their close call seemed as though it had been a delicious adventure.

"We should get to bed," Sirius said as soon as he had caught his breath. "We don't want to get caught this close to freedom."

Peter stood, tears of laughter streaming down his face and followed his friends to bed. Sirius was nearly to the staircase when he turned suddenly toward Peter. "You're not allowed to come with us anymore."

"Why not?" Peter asked, taken aback.

"Do you honestly have to ask that after all the trouble you caused us tonight?" James asked, moving to stand next to Sirius. Both of them were glaring at him, their arms crossed over their che. "It's only sheer dumb luck we're not in McGonagall's office getting shouted at right now. Well, that and Sirius' quick thinking." He turned to Sirius. "Nicely done, by the way."

Sirius gave a small bow that made James snort with laughter.

"But I want to come. You're my friends," Peter protested. He looked to Remus for help, but Remus only shrugged.

"Friends don't lead Filch directly to their friends' hiding places. I was starting to think you were trying to give us away on purpose." Sirius said.

"I didn't mean to. I just panicked!"

"Well, you can come with us again when you won't panic anymore," Sirius decreed with an air of finality in his tone.

Peter was going to protest, but the sound of the portrait hole opening cut him off. The four boys turned tail and fled up the stairs. By the time McGonagall arrived in their dormitory to check that all her Gryffindors were in bed, they were all feigning sleep so well that she never suspected a thing.

"_Didn't panic that time_," Peter thought bitterly the moment she was gone. But he was sure the others wouldn't notice. Well, he decided, if Sirius was going to accuse him of trying to give them away on purpose when he hadn't, maybe he would begin to do just that. It wasn't like Sirius wouldn't be able to wriggle his way out of it anyway. From now on, Peter promised himself, he was going to do everything in his power to get Sirius into trouble as often as he could.


	12. Remus: 13 October, 1971

Remus: 13 October, 1971

Remus flopped against the sofa, closing his eyes. He was so tired, but he knew better than to hope for sleep. He hated that the damned moon was visible through the tower windows, completely full save for a tiny sliver. It almost seemed to add insult to injury. He had been trying to concentrate on his homework, but he was too tired. It was nearly dawn, and he had been up all night. He had been up most of the previous night as well, wandering aimlessly around the castle with the Marauders.

After their near miss two weeks before, they had decided to take a bit of a break, but last night, Sirius had declared it was time for a new adventure, and so off they had gone. Remus wasn't sure why, but they always did what Sirius wanted to do. James, too. But then, the two of them usually wanted to do the same things. They were two peas in a pod, those two. And Remus was quite sure they were going to get him into awful trouble one of these days. Still, Remus couldn't help but like them. Things were never dull when they were around, that much was certain.

Remus closed his book and decided to go up to the dormitory. At least he could lie down and close his eyes, even if he couldn't sleep. He stood up just as someone appeared on the stairs. "Remus? Is that you?" It was James again.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Remus said with a small smile.

James said nothing. When he stepped into the light, Remus could see that he looked awful. He was pale and sweaty, and his lips were white. "Are you all right?" Remus asked.

James nodded, but no sooner had he done so than he began to cough, a deep rattling cough that made Remus wince with sympathy. He didn't need to see they way James grimaced and pressed on his chest to know that it had hurt.

"You should go to the hospital wing," Remus said. "I'll walk with you, if you like."

James shook his head. "I'm fine," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse. "It's just a cold. I'll probably be all better by tomorrow." He was seized by another fit of coughing, doubling over and hacking into his hands. "Ow," he croaked when he had finished, closing his eyes and grasping at his chest as his face contorted in pain.

"James, you're sick," Remus told him, worried. He didn't know much, but he knew a person didn't cough like that because of a cold.

James made his way to the sofa and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest. "Is there a blanket? It's freezing."

"You should go get into bed."

"No, it was too hot to sleep up there."

"You were hot up there, and now you're cold down here?"

James nodded, shivering so violently his teeth began to chatter.

"I'll go get you a blanket," Remus said. He ran up to the dormitory and pulled a red and gold quilt from the foot of James' bed. His mother had sent it to him only a few days before, along with a fresh batch of biscuits. She had made the quilt herself. At the door, Remus hesitated a moment, then turned around. He went to Sirius' bed and stood beside it, trying to decide whether or not he should wake his friend. He would be able to convince James to go to the hospital wing, Remus knew. Still, he hated to bother him. Sirius seemed to be having a bad dream. He was tossing slightly and moaning, calling for his father. That made Remus' decision to wake him easier.

"No!" Sirius jerked awake the moment Remus touched him, sitting up suddenly in the bed. He looked around for a moment as though getting his bearings before his eyes landed on Remus. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern etching his face.

"James is really sick. I can't get him to go to the hospital wing. I thought maybe you could convince him," Remus explained.

Sirius nodded tersely, tossing his own blankets off of himself and padding across the room. Remus followed at a close clip. When they got downstairs, James had fallen asleep, his head on his knees. Even in sleep, he was shivering. Sirius touched his forehead gingerly. "He's burning up," Sirius reported, gently resettling James so that he was lying on the sofa. "Here. Give me the quilt."

Until that moment, Remus had forgotten that he even had the quilt in his hands. He handed it over and watched as Sirius wrapped it around James, a surprising tenderness in his face. "Do you think we should go fetch McGonagall?" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Let's see how he feels when he wakes up. You should go to bed. I'll stay up and keep an eye on him."

"I'll stay up," Remus replied. "I can't sleep anyway."

"Want to play chess then?" Sirius asked.

"Sure. Are you any good?"

"I'm decent. I can beat James, anyway. What about you?"

Remus smiled. He was very good at chess; his father had taught him how to play it when he was young, and they had spent hours doing so as he recuperated from his transformations. "I'm not too shabby. I can beat my dad, sometimes. I haven't really had anyone to play except Peter, and he's complete pants at it."

"There's a shocker," Sirius said sarcastically.

"Why can't you two get along better?" Remus asked, disapproval etching his features. "You were pretty awful to him last night. You should have let him come." True to his decree two weeks before, Sirius had belligerently refused to allow Peter to accompany them on their wanderings the evening before. Not even James could convince him to change his mind. In the end, Peter decided to go wandering after them by himself and got caught, nearly giving the rest of them away as well. He ended up losing twenty points and landing in detention.

Sirius at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "If I'd let him come, we'd have had a share in that detention," he said defensively.

"So? You said yourself you don't care about detention," Remus argued. "You keep saying he's your friend, but you're certainly not treating him like one."

Sirius blushed and looked at the ground. A moment later, he looked at James and then at Remus, hurt in his eyes. "You're right," he admitted. "Peter is my friend. He just makes me so angry sometimes. Why does he have to be so obnoxious?"

"I don't think he's doing it on purpose," Remus explained.

Sirius sighed. "Yeah, everyone keeps saying that, but I'm not so sure."

"He's trying really hard. And he really likes you. James, too. He's been a lot happier since he became friends with the two of you."

At that moment, Peter himself appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Speak of the devil," Sirius said in an undertone.

"What are you all doing down here?" Peter asked, scratching his belly and yawning exuberantly.

Remus filled him in. "I couldn't sleep, and James is sick. Sirius and I were just about to play chess. You want to play?"

Peter's face lit up. "Yeah!"

"Come on, then. You can play the winner."

"I wasn't expecting to see you all down here," Peter said as he sat in an armchair next to Remus. "I was expecting you to be out exploring again."

"Nah," Sirius told him. "And listen, I was thinking maybe I was too hasty before. I know you couldn't help it that you sneezed. You can come with us next time, but you have to work on your stealth."

"What's stealth?" Peter asked.

"Your ability to stay quiet and not give the rest of us away," Sirius explained.

"I can stay quiet. I swear," Peter told him excitedly.

"Good," Sirius said with a smile. "Because James told me yesterday afternoon that he thought he saw a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. We were thinking of trying to catch it."

"You want to go into the Forbidden Forest?" Remus exclaimed, his breath catching in his throat. No way was he going to go in there. They really would get the cane for that. Remus wished he didn't keep allowing himself to be talked into all these adventures. "I am not going in there."

"I'll go!" Peter volunteered.

"We'll get into trouble," Remus continued.

Sirius merely shrugged. "You know, detention's not the end of the world. Especially if we get it together. Then we can keep one another company."

"I'm not afraid of detention!" Peter exclaimed.

"See, there's the kind of enthusiasm we need!" Sirius proclaimed approvingly, clapping Peter on the back.

Remus opened his mouth to tell Sirius that he wasn't afraid of detention, either, but he didn't see the point in going out of their way to get them when James sat up suddenly, wracked with another round of coughing. It went on for almost a full minute, and when he finished, he had tears streaming down his face, though he was clearly trying to hide them.

"Merlin's beard, James," Sirius cried. "I didn't know you were that sick. Come on. We're going to the hospital wing."

"No!" James said emphatically. "I keep telling everyone I'm fine. It's just a little cough."

"A little cough?" Sirius retorted. "You just almost hacked your lungs up. You really should go get checked out."

James glared at him as much as he could around his still-streaming eyes. He wiped angrily at the tears as he lay back on the sofa. He was asleep again within seconds.

"He's really sick," Remus said, chewing his bottom lip with worry. "Maybe we should go get McGonagall."

A movement near the girl's staircase caught Remus' eye. He turned to see Lily watching them.

"What are you boys up to?" she asked suspiciously.

Sirius turned to look at her. "Just playing wizard's chess," he said casually.

"I heard someone coughing."

"That would have been James. He's sick," Remus informed Lily.

"I'm not sick!" James said unexpectedly before another round of coughing. Apparently, he had only been faking sleep.

Lily looked at James sympathetically. She walked over and put a hand on his forehead as Sirius had done earlier, the same look of tenderness on her face. James closed his eyes and sighed. "You're running fever," she reported. "You should go to the hospital wing."

James opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Will you please go out with me?" he asked. "You're so lovely. The loveliest girl I've ever seen. You walk into the room, and it's like the sun coming up."

Lily smiled shyly. "You must be sicker than we thought. You're delirious."

"Why do you hang around Snivellus?" James asked. "He's such a prat."

Lily's smile faded. "Why are you so mean to him all the time?" she asked harshly.

"He deserves it," James said before another round of coughing took him. When he had finished, he moaned, rubbing his chest. "I don't feel good," he whinged.

"That's because you're sick!" Lily said matter-of-factly. "And don't bother telling me you're not. I swear, you're worse than my sister. She never wants to admit it when she's sick, either. I'm going to go get McGonagall. You're going to the hospital wing, and I don't want to hear any arguments." Lily stormed out of the portrait hole before James could even protest, not that he wanted to. He had a goofy grin on his face.

"I'm going to marry her someday," he said.

"Not if you die right here because you won't admit you're sick," Sirius replied.

"But I don't want to be sick," James whinged.

"No one ever wants to be sick, but the quicker you go to the hospital the quicker you'll get better."

"But they'll call my parents!"

"Why is that a problem?" Remus asked.

"They'll get all worried and hovery and make me stay in bed and eat chicken soup."

"That sounds like a fate worse than death. Would you rather your parents ignored you when you were sick?" Sirius asked wryly. Something about Sirius' tone led Remus to believe the question was somehow deeper than it sounded. Remus looked at Sirius, studying him. He looked the same as always, a self-assured smirk on his face, so why did Remus have the feeling that there was sadness in his voice as he spoke?

James didn't notice anything amiss. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "Stop picking on me!" he ordered. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to be nice to people when they're sick!"

Remus thought he saw a shadow cross Sirius' face, but it was gone so quickly he could never quite be sure, and a moment later, his attention was on James again as he coughed so violently that he sicked up on the floor.

"Ew!" Peter exclaimed, backing away from the puddle of sick. The others ignored him.

"I think I'm sick," James admitted, lying back on the sofa.

"You think?" Sirius asked as Lily and McGonagall arrived.

As Sirius and Lily had both done before her, McGonagall felt James' forehead. "How long have you been feeling ill?" she asked.

James shrugged. "My throat hurt yesterday, but I felt fine. Then I woke up a little while ago, and I couldn't stop coughing."

"Come on. Up you get. We're going to see Madame Pomfrey.

"But I'm too tired," James groaned as she pulled him to his feet. He wrapped the quilt around himself tightly. "Can't I just go home? My dad's a healer. He always takes care of me when I'm sick."

"I'd rather you went to Madame Pomfrey. She's perfectly capable of taking care of you. But once we get you all settled, we can call your parents if you like, and they can come sit with you." She started toward the door with James as Sirius and Remus moved to follow.

"We don't need an entourage, gentlemen," she told them.

"Please let them come," James begged. "They're my friends."

McGonagall gave a small smile. "Well, seeing as you're all already awake, I suppose there's no harm in it." She half-dragged, half-carried James to the portrait hole.

"You coming?" Sirius asked, turning to Peter.

Peter shook his head. "I don't like hospitals," he said sheepishly.

"But he's your friend," Remus said.

Peter chewed on his lip. "Okay, I'll come," he agreed after a moment. They quickly followed McGonagall to the portrait hole.

By the time they arrived at the hospital wing, McGonagall was very nearly carrying James. She settled him into a bed and knocked on Madame Pomfrey's door. "You have a patient," she said.

Madame Pomfrey seemed thrilled to have someone to fret over. She gasped as he was wracked with more coughs, and held her wand over his chest.

"Bronchitis," she reported. "You just rest. I'll be back in a moment."

"Madame Pomfrey will fix you all up," McGonagall said soothingly.

James closed his eyes. "I want my mother," he said softly.

"I'll go fetch her," McGonagall said. She rose and went to the nearby fireplace, disappearing through it after she hollered out, "Potter Manor."

Madame Pomfrey returned just then with three vials of potions. She made James sit up and drink them. He made a face after each one. "Why do they always have to be so vile?" he asked.

"Sugar renders them useless, I'm afraid," Madame Pomfrey said with a sigh as McGonagall reappeared with James' parents in tow. Remus' first thought was that they looked far too old to be James' parents. Then he paled the moment he recognized Mr. Potter. He knew Remus was a werewolf. He was one of the healers who had worked on Remus after he was bitten. He had then remained on Remus' case as one of the lead healers. Mr. Potter had been caring for Remus for years, even going so far as to make house calls when Remus accidentally injured himself during his transformations, which was often. That was the disadvantage of his being locked away during his transformations. With no one else to attack, he would bite and scratch himself. It wasn't at all rare for him to wake up bleeding or with broken bones. Still, it was far better than the alternative.

Remus' heart began to beat quickly in his chest. His throat felt very tight and tears stung his eyes. As soon as Mr. Potter realized that Remus was at the school, he would raise the alarm, and Remus would be expelled. Frightened, he looked at Mr. Potter, waiting for recognition to dawn on his face. Mr. Potter locked eyes with him and smiled. Then he gave a little wink, and Remus' heart rate began to slow as he slowly came to understand that Mr. Potter wasn't going to give him away.

As Mr. Potter began to chat with Madame Pomfrey, Mrs. Potter made a beeline for the bed, sitting next to James and feeling his head.

"Mum," he moaned. "I'm sick."

James wriggled around in the bed so that he could put his head in her lap. "I don't feel good at all," he said.

"I know, Jamie, but we'll get you all better," she cooed, carding her fingers through his hair. Peter let out a little snort of laughter as Mrs. Potter called her son "Jamie". Remus and Sirius turned to glare at him and he ducked a little, his cheeks turning pink. Mrs. Potter didn't hear. She began to hum a lullaby that Remus recognized; it was one Charlotte used to sing to him when he was young. She reached behind her for the quilt she had made, wrapping it around James tenderly. She planted a kiss on top of his head, resting her hand on his shoulder. Remus was sure he saw it that time; a little tremor of sadness crossed Sirius' face and didn't quite leave as he watched the Potters wistfully.

Mr. Potter extricated himself from Madame Pomfrey and joined them on the bed. "It looks like you've got half your house here, Son. Did it take this many people just to bring you up here? Let me guess, you tried to pretend you're not sick, and they had to drag you out of the common room kicking and screaming."

Remus heard Sirius snicker, and Remus fought the urge to do the same. That hadn't been far from the truth.

"No," James explained. "These are my friends." He pointed to each of them in turn. "That's Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. We're the Marauders. Where's Lily?"

"She didn't come," Sirius said quickly.

James pouted for a moment. "You'll have to meet her another day, Mum and Dad. She's brilliant. I'm going to marry her."

Mr. Potter laughed and turned to the Marauders. "So, you're the Marauders I've been hearing so much about?" he asked. All three boys nodded. "Well, thank you for taking such good care of my son. He's very lucky to have friends like you." Remus thought it must have been only his imagination, but he was sure that Mr. Potter looked right at him as he spoke. He smiled shyly at Mr. Potter, and Mr. Potter smiled back. Somehow, having Mr. Potter look at him and smile at him made him feel terribly special.

Mr. Potter had always made Remus feel special. He was one of the few healers who didn't treat Remus like an invalid or a monster just because he happened to be a werewolf one night out of thirty. When he had been very little, Mr. Potter would bring him sweets and tell him to eat them all because they'd made him feel better. And they always had. Looking at James and Mr. Potter, he wondered how he'd never realized before that they were related. They looked exactly alike, except that Mr. Potter's hair was lighter than James', and it lay flat. And now that he thought about it, he remembered Mr. Potter saying he had a son about Remus' own age. He remembered thinking when he was younger that Mr. Potter's son was very lucky. Now that he knew James, he knew for a fact that it was true.

"Mum, can we go home?" James asked tiredly.

Mrs. Potter looked to Mr. Potter. "What do you think, Harry?"

Mr. Potter looked to Madame Pomfrey and held out his hand in a motion of deference. "I'd say that's up to his healer."

Madame Pomfrey blushed. "Of course you can take him. You're a much more talented healer than I, Mr. Potter."

"Don't sell yourself short, Poppy," he told her, looking at her almost sternly. "Come on, Jamie. Up you get." He lifted James out of the bed. James wrapped his arms around his dad's neck and rested his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes. Watching them, Remus felt a little surge of homesickness. He wished he could go home tonight and have his transformation there. "It was nice to have met you, boys," Mr. Potter said, stepping through the floo with James still in his arms. Remus turned to Sirius and Peter. Both of them looked a little homesick as well.

"All right, you three. It's about time to be getting ready for breakfast. Go on back to your dormitory," McGonagall ordered, breaking Remus out of his reverie. The three boys went, already looking forward to breakfast.

Remus battled with himself all day about whether or not he should ask to go home tonight. He wanted to very badly, but he also wanted to prove to everyone that he could be brave. And he certainly didn't want to give his parents reason to think he wasn't doing well at Hogwarts. When the moment came to walk to the shrieking shack, he made his decision and followed Madame Pomfrey through the passageway beneath the whomping willow. He would see his parents tomorrow, he told himself. He also knew that Sirius and Peter would come and visit him. His friends, he reminded himself with a smile. The thought of seeing them tomorrow in the hospital wing buoyed him so much that he was not nearly as frightened as usual when the sun disappeared beyond the horizon and the full moon came out. An instant later, the fear disappeared completely; there was no room in his body for anything but pain.


	13. James: 23 October, 1971

James: 23 October, 1971

"Done!" James proclaimed, putting the last period emphatically on his Transfiguration essay. He leaned back proudly. After spending a week at home sick, he had returned to Hogwarts to find mountains of homework waiting for him. All of his free time for the last three days had been devoted to catching up, and now he finally had. James looked at Sirius, who was casually perusing a book about Astronomy. James had still never managed to catch him doing homework. "We should celebrate."

"We should celebrate," Sirius agreed, not looking up from his book. "What do you suggest?"

James thought for a moment. "Something out of doors," he declared. "It's a beautiful day out there, and it'll probably get cold soon."

"Something out-of-doors," Sirius repeated, putting down his book. "How about visiting the forest? We never did go on that unicorn hunt."

James' face brightened. "That's a great idea. What about Remus and Peter?" The two of them were in the library, doing research for an Astronomy essay that wasn't due until Friday. James wasn't quite ready to start on new homework so soon after catching up, and Sirius had already finished it.

"We can stop by the library and get them," Sirius replied. "Although I don't think they'll want to come. Remus is really worried about this essay. And he won't accept my help."

James thought about that a moment. "I wonder why," he mused.

Sirius shrugged. "It's no big thing. If they won't come on this one, maybe we can get them to come on the next one."

"How many unicorn hunts do you think we're going to need?"

"I don't know. But they're supposed to be hard to catch. We'll have to get them to trust us first. And they don't usually trust boys. Maybe we can convince a girl to come along."

"What about Lily?"

"I don't think she'll come. I get the feeling she doesn't like you very much."

"How could anyone not like me?" James asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's a mystery," Sirius said, holding his arms out as he shrugged his shoulders. He stood up. "I think we'll be fine without a girl. If we need one, I'll recruit someone next time. You ready?"

Sirius gave James a hand up, and they raced one another to the portrait hole, glad to have something to do. James' energy still wasn't completely back, but he had far more of it than it took to do homework.

In the library, Sirius explained their mission to Remus and Peter. Remus refused to come point blank. "No way. You two are going to end up getting whacked if you keep sneaking around like this. Besides, I have to get this finished."

"We won't be whacked," Sirius said assuredly. "We're not planning to get caught, and even if we did get caught, I'm far too adorable to whack. By the way, when you change your mind and decide you want help with Astronomy, you just talk to me."

"I can do it myself," Remus said stubbornly, but Sirius wasn't listening. He had turned to look at the next table, which was full of girls. They were all staring openly at him and giggling. "Hello, ladies," Sirius said in a deep voice. The girls all blushed and started to giggle, whispering to one another behind their hands. It was painfully obvious from the way they glanced at him that they were whispering about Sirius.

"How do you do that?" Peter asked, awed.

"I don't know. I've just got the touch, I guess."

"I'll go to the forest with you," Peter said, shutting his book.

Remus pursed his lips. "You said you'd help me, Peter."

"You won't take my help, but you'll take his?" Sirius asked, looking affronted.

"That's because he doesn't insist on doing the whole thing for me. And besides, he's working on his essay, too."

"Yeah," Peter admitted. "I am sort of behind. I had to get an extension on the Potions essay last week. I don't think Slughorn likes me very much."

"I wouldn't take it personally," Sirius said reassuringly. "Slughorn only likes people who have coattails he can ride. You should hear the way he goes on in the Slug Club. 'Why, Betsy Boone gave me tickets to her art gallery the other day. I was her favorite professor, you know. And Robin Hood just sent me a signed bow. I taught him everything he knows!' I'm telling you, you're not missing much." The Marauders roared with laughter over Sirius' impersonation of their professor until they noticed the librarian giving them the evil eye.

"We better go before she hexes us," James whispered. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"We can't," Remus said definitively. "But good luck."

"Peter?" Sirius asked.

Peter looked at them hungrily. James could almost feel how badly he wanted to go. "I better not," he said, frowning.

"You two are missing out," James teased. "We'll bring you a unicorn hair."

"I'll be holding my breath for that," Remus said, his eyes twinkling.

"I don't think he believes we're really going to catch a unicorn, mate," James whispered to Sirius as they were leaving the library.

"We'll show him" Sirius replied confidently.

It really was lovely day. An Indian Summer breeze ruffled the boys' hair as they made their way across the grounds, stopping every few minutes to say hello to someone new. It seemed half the school was out enjoying the last vestiges of warmth before the long winter set it. Their longest conversation was with Hagrid, who made them come into his hut for tea and some horrid cakes that nearly broke James' teeth. Sirius munched on them politely, taking very small bites and swallowing them with minimal chewing. It seemed Sirius and Hagrid had become friends during James' absence, particularly after Sirius drew him a particularly lifelike rendering of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Hagrid had the picture framed and in a place of honor on his mantle, where, James noticed, he looked at it proudly throughout most of their visit.

Once they escaped from Hagrid, they had to be sneaky to get into the forest unseen, but luckily they were good at that. The moment they stepped into the forest, a hush descended and they were surrounded by little but birdsong and wind through the leaves.

"I like this forest," James declared in a whisper. It seemed like the sort of place where a chap ought to whisper. It reminded him of camping with his parents. The forest where they always stayed was much like this one; quiet and serene. He recalled his father taking him out on the lake in a little rowboat and teaching him to fish. He vividly remembered how proud he felt the day he caught his first fish and brought it back to his mother to cook. Nothing had ever tasted so good to James as the fish he caught himself. Eventually, he learned to clean them and cook them himself as wekk, and many had been the time he had managed to feed the whole family on his catches alone.

"Where do you think we ought to begin the search for this unicorn?" James asked.

"I've no idea," Sirius replied, looking around. "Maybe if we just start walking we'll find some sort of evidence."

It wasn't long before James and Sirius had completely forgotten that they were supposed to be hunting unicorns and were chasing one another and climbing trees instead. They even found a little pond and sat by it for a long while, throwing in rocks before James suggested they go for a swim. Sirius readily agreed, and they laid their clothes aside before jumping into the water, laughing and splashing. Sirius got brave and climbed a tree, diving gracefully into the water from one of its limbs. James tried to do the same, but he only managed to do cannonballs.

As the sun moved closer to the horizon and a late afternoon chill settled into the air, the boys decided it was time to go back. "More homework awaits," James said glumly as they redressed. "Is it sad that I'm already ready for Christmas?"

"Maybe a little," Sirius replied. "But Christmas means presents, and you can't beat presents."

"That's true," James agreed. "My mum goes mental at Christmas. She decorates the whole house and cooks for days. Sometimes, she even lets me drink wassail. I wish you could come."

"Maybe I can come visit," Sirius said hopefully.

"That would be brilliant!" James enthused. By the time they arrived back at the edge of the forest, James had already planned out their entire Christmas holiday.

"Oh no! Shit!" Sirius whispered just as James was telling him about how they would be staying up all night on New Years' Eve.

"What?" James asked, looking up. It didn't take him long at all to spot what had caused Sirius to swear. McGonagall was heading for them at top speed, a look of fury contorting her face.

"What in the world did you boys think you were doing in there?"

James wasn't sure what to say, so he looked to Sirius, waiting for him to work his magic.

"We're sorry," Sirius began, but McGonagall cut him off.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it this time, Black."

"The entire staff have been out searching for you two for hours. We were worried sick. We were just about to call your parents!"

"We're sorry," Sirius cried, his eyes wide. "We didn't know you were looking for us!"

"Save it, Black. The Forbidden Forest is dangerous, boys. There are all sorts of creatures in there. Imagine how your parents would feel if I had to call them and tell them you were hurt - or worse - just because you decided to go hunting unicorns."

James winced. He hadn't thought about it like that. He tried to make himself look in McGonagall's eyes, but he couldn't quite force himself to do it. He peeked at Sirius and saw that he was staring resolutely at the ground as well, a look of grim acceptance on his face. That was the moment when James realized nothing was going to save them this time. They would probably be in detention for the rest of the term. That wasn't too bad, James decided. At least they'd be in it together.

"You two are both going to be caned," McGonagall decreed.

"No!" James protested, jerking his head up to look at her. "No, please don't!"

Sirius burst suddenly and spectacularly into tears, and James watched him, hoping he had some other trick up his sleeve. The moment he saw Sirius' face, he realized that these weren't his normal crocodile tears. James wasn't sure how he knew, but there was something about the tinge of fear in his eyes and the slight look of panic on his face that told James as clearly as if his friend were speaking that these tears were genuine. In the short time they had known one another, James had seen Sirius stare down professors many times, never breaking a sweat even when they docked them points or assigned them detention. He had never once given any indication that he cared a whit about getting into trouble. Until now. And James knew, as surely as he had ever known anything in his life, that Sirius was terrified of the cane.

"Please don't cane him. It was my fault!" James cried as a flash of inspiration seized him. "It was my idea go into the forest, and I made him come with me."

"And how exactly did you make him, Potter?"

James was usually not wonderful at thinking quickly on his feet. At least, not where a glaring grown-up was concerned. But today, the answers were falling into his brain as if by divine providence. "I bullied him into it. I told him I'd hex him if he didn't come. It wasn't his fault at all."

McGonagall turned her glare on him in full, and he resisted the urge to cringe beneath it. "Are you aware that we consider bullying a very serious offense here at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, ma'am," James said, dropping his head. He couldn't bear to see the look in her eyes any longer. He was already fond of her, and he hated to think that she was disappointed in him, even if it was for something he hadn't done.

"Look at me, Potter," she ordered, and James obeyed quickly, wishing that adults wouldn't always insist on eye contact. His parents always did that as well, but James thought it was much easier to get shouted at when you didn't have to look in the person's face the whole time and be constantly reminded how angry they were, as if all the shouting didn't communicate it well enough.

"I appreciate your honesty, but that doesn't change the seriousness of your offenses. I was planning to give you both four strokes of the cane, but, Black, you will receive only two. I understand how difficult it can be to say no to a friend, but that doesn't excuse doing something so dangerous. The next time Potter tries to get you to do something you know you shouldn't, I expect you to tell him no, and if he threatens you again, come speak to me and I'll take care of it. You," she said, turning back to James and placing a harshness in her voice that hadn't been there when she was speaking to Sirius. "I am very disappointed in you. I ought to give you six of the best."

"Yes, ma'am," James whispered, fear creeping up his spine. "However, since you were honest with me, I'll let you off one stroke. You will receive five."

James took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and deciding that no matter how much it hurt, he wouldn't cry. He was sure he could do it. Five wasn't very many, after all, he thought to himself. He'd had more than that when his dad decided to smack him at home. Of course, that hadn't been with a cane, but still. His dad had taken a slipper to him once when he was nine and stole the old man's broomstick. The cane couldn't be much worse than that, and James hadn't cried that day. Well, not much, anyway. Besides, that had been a very long time ago. He was bigger now, and much braver.

James squared his shoulders and walked behind McGonagall, determined to show his courage. Sirius was still crying and hugging himself tightly. "It's okay, Siri," James whispered softly. "It won't be so bad. Two isn't much at all."

Sirius gave a tiny nod, not lifting his head. James glared at McGonagall's back, fighting down his temper. Suddenly, he was so angry with her he could barely see straight. Couldn't she see that Sirius was upset? Didn't she care? It didn't seem fair to James for her to cane a chap who was already crying.

They reached the Entrance Hall just before dinner. Swarms of students were milling about in the Entrance Hall, waiting for dinner to begin. James groaned. As if being in trouble weren't bad enough, he had to get in trouble in front of the whole school. He held his held up proudly as he walked, looking straight ahead as though he hadn't a care in the world. He still managed to catch a glimpse of Remus looking at him sorrowfully and Snape looking at him with barely contained glee.

When they arrived in her office, McGonagall commenced lecturing them once more. James tried to listen, but he couldn't concentrate over the sound of Sirius' pitiful sobs and the beating of his own heart. He spent most of the lecture wishing she'd shut up and do it already, but the moment she quieted and reached into a cabinet behind her desk for the cane, he found himself wishing she'd seen fit to continue her lecture for awhile longer.

"You first, Black," she said, producing the horrid instrument. James couldn't take his eyes off of it. Some of the bigger boys liked to tell horror stories about how much that thing hurt. James suspected they were exaggerating to scare the younger kids or make themselves seem braver, but the idea that perhaps they weren't made James' stomach feel a little queasy.

Sirius stepped forward obediently and obeyed wordlessly when McGonagall ordered him to bend over a large leather armchair. James shut his eyes tightly until it was over, wishing she had let him wait in the corridor. Getting it himself would be plenty bad enough. He didn't want to have to witness his friend get it as well. Sirius rose the second McGonagall gave him leave. James looked in his face, trying to gauge how much it had hurt, but Sirius' face showed little but relief. McGonagall put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He jerked away, glaring at her through his tears. She studied him for a moment, nothing but compassion in her face. "I don't want to have to do that again, Black, but I will if I have to, so please learn your lesson," she said sadly. Sirius crossed his arms angrily over his chest and stormed over to stand next to James, where he stared stonily at her rug.

"Your turn, Potter," McGonagall said sternly, and James inhaled deeply, trying to prepare himself. He made his way over to the armchair as slowly as he dared and bent over it as Sirius had a moment before. He looked at the aged leather and saw teardrops splattered across it. Sirius'. James fought down a fresh wave of temper, hating McGonagall in that moment with every fiber of his being for making his best mate cry. He forgot all about his anger the moment the cane fell. James yelped as tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. It was much, much worse than his father's slipper.

James read the letter over for about the fifth time, trying to decide if he should really send it. As soon as McGonagall released them, Sirius and James had returned miserably to their common room. By then, Sirius was no longer crying; he had calmed quickly as soon as his punishment was over. James, on the other hand, couldn't seem to make himself stop. As soon as they arrived in the thankfully-empty common room, Sirius marched up to their dormitory and rummaged through his trunk. A moment later, he tossed James a bruise salve before pulling the curtains around his bed and telling James he just wanted to be alone for a little while.

Not sure what else to do, James pulled the curtains around his own bed and crawled into it unhappily, tears coursing down his face. Griselda jumped into the bed with him and nuzzled him, meowing sympathetically. Once Sirius' salve had taken away some of the bite and he had begun to calm, she licked at his cheek. James hugged her tightly, grateful for any bit of comfort he could get after such an ordeal. Then he rose and scrounged for a quill and parchment before returning to his bed to hammer out a tear-stained letter to his parents, begging them to bring him home.

James decided to send the letter, and made his way to the owlery to do so. He watched the school owl he had chosen for the task disappear into the night sky, and then made his way back to Gryffindor tower, joining with the throng of students who were returning from dinner.

"James!" Remus exclaimed the moment James stepped through the portrait hole. "Are you all right? We got worried when you never came to dinner. Everybody was saying you got caned."

James looked around and noticed that nearly everyone in the common room was listening. "We did," he reported proudly. Now that it didn't hurt so much anymore, he was feeling better. Well enough to have decided that the jaunt to the forest had been worth it. In a way, he was almost grateful. It may have hurt like the dickens, but at least now it was over and he didn't have a boring detention hanging over his head.

It wasn't long before he had a crowd gathered around him, hanging on his every word as he told of their adventure in the forest, making it sound much more exciting than it actually had been. He hadn't got far when Sirius appeared and joined in cheerfully, giving James a little wink.

"Was it awful getting the cane?" Erin Collins asked, her eyes wide with horror. She was a second year, and one of the girls who had been giggling at Sirius just a few hours ago.

"No, it wasn't bad at all. My baby brother hits harder than McGonagall," Sirius told the awed crowd.

"Still, she shouldn't have caned you," Erin said gravely. "Do you want me to hate her, Sirius? If you want me to hate her, I will." Several of the other girls around nodded, as though hating someone were the worst thing they could possibly think of.

"Nah, she's just doing her job," James piped up, looking expectantly in Lily's direction. She was sitting in a corner watching the commotion. She second she saw James looking at her, she rolled her eyes and buried herself in her homework. "Besides, it hardly hurt at all."

"She must not have been putting much effort into it, then," Gideon Prewitt called from the sofa nearest the fireplace. "Every time she's caned us, I thought my bum was going to fall clean off! She caught us in the forest once when we were third years, and I don't reckon my left buttock has ever been the same."

"Maybe we're braver than you," Sirius suggested to the general amusement of the crowd, including Gideon and his twin brother, Fabian. They were fifth years and the beaters for the Hogwarts quidditch team. They were also both very well-liked among the students, mostly because they were nice to everyone except the Slytherins and always good for a laugh.

"You two are all right," Fabian said, smiling. "Why don't you come over here and sit with us. If you can sit, that it."

Sirius and James made their way to the sofa to sit with the older boys. James was glad the sofa was soft; he was still a bit sore, after all. As they passed Remus, James heard him muttering under his breath to Peter. All he could make out was, "There'll be no living with them after this." James bit his lip to keep from smiling. He thought it was very decent of Remus not to tell them, "I told you so." After all, he had. Maybe he should start listening to Remus a little more often, James decided. A moment later, he decided against it.

It wasn't until late, after the story had been told and retold with varying degrees of truthfulness that Sirius and James declared themselves tired. "Getting lost in the Forbidden Forest is hard work," Sirius explained to the flock of girls still hanging on his every word. James rolled his eyes. In the retelling, the story had somehow grown from, "we went for a swim and lost track of time" to "we found a herd of unicorns and followed them until we got hopelessly lost". At one point, Sirius even had them single-handedly battling a troll, only just managing a narrow and heroic escape before it tried to squash them into jelly.

As soon as they had changed into their pajamas, James turned to look at Sirius. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I don't know why I got so upset. It was silly."

"If it makes you feel any better, I was scared out of my blooming mind."

Sirius gave a sad smile. "I never should have let you take the fall for me."

James shrugged. "You'd have done the same for me. Besides, I didn't mind. It wasn't so bad."

"Wasn't so bad?" Sirius repeated. "You were screaming bloody murder!"

"I was not!" James protested as he grabbed a pillow and flung it at Sirius, hitting him in the face.

"Oh, you're going down now, Potter," Sirius said, jumping off the bed to attack James with his own pillow. Luckily, he had more. After a few moments of fighting, James stopped suddenly as a thought dropped into his mind.

"Oi! Sirius!" he said just Sirius pillow crashed into his head. "Hey, stop it! I've just thought if something. You remember when she found us, McGonagall said something about us hunting for unicorns. How do you reckon she knew that's what we were doing?"

Sirius dropped his pillow, furrowing his brow. "I don't know. You don't reckon someone told her we were in there, do you?"

"No one knew except the Marauders," James said. "And Remus and Peter would never tell."

"Someone must have overheard us talking about it," Sirius said with an air of definitiveness.

Yes, that made perfect sense. "Must have done," James agreed before hitting Sirius with his pillow so quickly that Sirius didn't even have time to duck.

"That was a cheap shot," Sirius said indignantly.

"Oh, yeah?" James asked, stepping out of Sirius' reach. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Sirius threw a pillow at James just as Remus and Peter were walking into the room. The pillow hit Remus square in the face.

"Sorry, Remus," Sirius said. "I was aiming for James." Sirius went to fetch the pillow that Remus was holding out to him, a humorless look on his face. The second Sirius got close enough, Remus smiled mischievously and whacked him over the head with it. A split second later, the four of them were leaping from bed to bed, screaming with laughter as they tried to cream one another with their pillows. They didn't stop until Frank Longbottom charged up the stairs and told them to keep it down or he'd put them all in detention.


	14. Sirius: 31 October, 1971

Sirius: 31 October, 1971

The feeling of excitement in the castle was almost palpable as the Marauders made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast on Halloween. The weather had finally broken a few days before, covering the world in a misty shroud of frost. The weather seemed so much more spectacular here in the highlands than it did in London, and Sirius had always been a fan of Weather. He loved sitting by the window and watching it storm. He and Regulus would curl up in his bed together with popcorn and open the window a crack, just enough that they could hear the wind and the rain and the crashes of thunder. Then they would turn off the lights and watch as the trees swayed and the lightning lit up the sky. Sirius couldn't count the number of times they had fallen asleep like that, happy to be together and, for the moment, at the very least, safe under Sirius' blankets.

Sirius missed Regulus. It was a dull ache in his stomach that wouldn't quite go away. He didn't want to see his parents, but he wanted more than anything to see his little brother. He worried about Regulus alone in Grimmauld Place with them and hoped he was taking Sirius' advice and hiding whenever their father was in a bad mood. It wouldn't save him every time, but it would save him sometimes. Sirius hoped that would be enough. He couldn't wait for the day Reg would come to Hogwarts.

True to his word, Sirius had written to Regulus nearly every day. He had missed only twice - days when he got too busy. Regulus had yet to miss a day. Every morning, when the mail came in, Sirius would look up expectantly for his family's owl and peruse the letter from Reg carefully, breathing a small sigh of relief when it contained no bad news. Mostly, Regulus talked about the things he was learning from their tutor and the books he was reading. He usually wanted to know if Sirius had heard the latest quidditch news and asked him to tell Andromeda and Narcissa hello.

Sirius always passed Reg's messages on to Andromeda, but Narcissa was a little trickier. On the few occasions that Sirius had attempted to speak to her, she ignored him, pretending not to know him. Sirius didn't really care; he wasn't overly fond of her, after all, but he didn't much see the point in the pretension. It wasn't like the entire school didn't already know they were related.

Sirius chatted merrily with his friends as they ate their breakfast. He and James spent most of their meal plotting. They had toned down their behavior a bit since their run-in with McGonagall the week before, but they were starting to get restless again. The Great Hall had been decorated with live bats and pumpkins so huge Sirius thought he could have climbed into one and built a summer home. Part of him wanted to try it just to see if he could get in and out unseen. Maybe he could talk one of the Marauders into making some sort of diversion during the feast that night. Peter was his best bet, he decided. James would want to come along, and Remus probably wouldn't approve.

Still, he couldn't quite be sure about Remus. The boy surprised him sometimes. Only two days before, he had mentioned in passing that he knew the password to Dumbledore's office and told the others that it was filled with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. "I sort of wanted to draw moustaches on them while no one was looking," he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. James and Sirius had decided then and there that they had to make a plan to sneak into Dumbledore's office and carry out Remus' idea.

When the post owls arrived, only Peter didn't look up. He never got any letters. Sirius had wondered about it from time to time, but Peter never mentioned it, and the others didn't ask.

The Black family owl had two letters for him today, and Sirius felt a little thrill of happiness when he spotted his mother's loopy calligraphy along with his normal letter from Reg. She hadn't written to him all term, although he had written to her several times. He didn't need to hear it from Snape or Narcissa to know that she was angry over his having been sorted into Gryffindor. He hoped this letter meant that she had forgiven him. After feeding the owl a little bit of toast and sending it on its way, his own note to Regulus clenched in its talons, Sirius tore into Reg's letter to him, pulling the parchment out of the envelope with a smile on his face.

As he read, the smile disappeared. He felt an awful desire to cry when he saw the piece of news he had been dreading. Regulus had been "punished" the day before for faffing about during his lessons when he didn't know Orion was watching. Sirius felt for his brother. Sirius had been punished for that same thing more times than he could count. Their tutor was a kind man who generally made their lessons interesting, and the boys both liked him, but even he couldn't keep them from losing their focus from time to time. He was never overly stern with them, knowing what Orion was like, though he would punish them on occasion when they pushed him to it, usually by sending them to a corner until they thought their heads would explode with boredom. Mostly, though, the threat that Orion might be standing right outside the door kept them pretty well in line.

Sirius crumpled the letter, wishing he could go to Grimmauld Place right now and take a cane to Orion. See how he liked it.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked, so softly that no one else could hear, looking at Sirius with concerned eyes. Sirius had the distinct impression that Remus suspected something, and it made Sirius nervous. Hiding this secret had become second nature to him after all these years, and the thought of someone finding out frightened him a little bit, not least because Remus would probably think him weak and cowardly for allowing it to happen, for never standing up to Orion, and for letting his father hurt him and his brother, whom he was supposed to protect. Not that he could do anything to stop it. Not yet, anyway.

"I'm fine," Sirius answered, just as softly, staring at the plate of eggs and bangers that he had been eating happily a moment before. Suddenly, he was no longer hungry.

"No, you're not," Remus replied.

Sirius jerked his head up to look in his friend's kind eyes. "It's none of your business," he snapped. He felt guilty the second he saw hurt cross Remus' face. "Remus, I'm sorry," he said. "Only I don't want to talk about it."

"Why didn't you just say that, then?" Remus asked, his eyes boring into Sirius.

"I don't know. I guess I'm sort of a prat sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Peter asked sarcastically.

"You stay out of it, Worm Guts," James cut in. He and Sirius had mostly stopped calling Peter Worm Guts, but they still used it on occasion, when they were annoyed with him.

"Why don't you mind your own business, _Jamie_?" Peter retorted nastily.

"Call me that again, and I'll punch you in the head," James said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, but it's fine for you to call me "Worm Guts"?" Peter questioned.

"Yes, because you're not man enough to punch me in the head," James shot back.

"Pardon me!" Sirius interrupted. "Remus and I are the ones having a row here. You're sort of stealing our thunder."

"But I don't want to have a row!" Remus protested.

"Then hurry up and forgive me already, and we won't have to," Sirius explained.

"I forgive you," Remus replied quickly.

"Thanks," Sirius said. The he turned to Peter and James. "Okay, we're finished. You two can carry on now."

But the mood had clearly passed. Neither Peter nor James said anything more. James began ripping into the package he had just received from his parents. "Hey, look what my dad sent me!" he exclaimed suddenly, pulling a flowing silvery cloak out of the box. Sirius gasped as he realized what James had received.

"James, do you know what that is?" he asked.

"Course I do. It's my dad's invisibility cloak," James enthused. "Just think of all the things we can do with this."

"Why would he send you an invisibility cloak? They're really rare," Sirius asked, touching the fabric reverently. His Uncle Cygnus had an invisibility cloak, but it wasn't nearly so nice as this one.

James wrapped the cloak back in its box gingerly, picking up the letter that had accompanied it. His eyes moved quickly back and forth across the page as he read. He let out a laugh when he came to the end. "It's to keep me out of trouble," he explained. "I sort of wrote to my parents after we got caned last week, and this-" he brandished the letter- "is their reply. Most of it is the normal parent stuff. If I'm going to misbehave, I have to be prepared to accept the consequences, that sort of thing, but at the end, he said he got the cane quite a few times in his day and knows firsthand how miserable it can be, and that I should use this-" he lifted a corner of the cloak-" to save my backside."

Sirius let out a little laugh himself. "Your father sounds pretty brilliant!" he exclaimed as he opened the letter from his mother. He stopped laughing abruptly.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

"Nothing," Sirius replied quickly, folding the note and sticking it hastily in his pocket, wishing he could forget the words he had just read.

_Sirius,_  
_Only mudbloods and blood traitors go to Gryffindor. You have shamed our family. Don't bother coming home for Christmas.  
Walburga_

Somehow it made it sting all the more that she had signed it with her given name, as though she didn't even want to be his mother anymore. Sirius let out a shaky sigh, biting his lower lip so his friends wouldn't see that it was trembling. None of this made any sense to him. Did a stupid house assignment really matter that much? Sirius found himself fighting the constriction in his throat that told him tears were on their way. He willed them gone. He would not cry right here in the middle of breakfast.

"Are you sure?" James asked. "You don't look like it's nothing."

Remembering the row he had just had with Remus, Sirius swallowed back his desire to lash out. "I don't want to talk about it," he craoked, rising from the table and practically running out of the Great Hall. He ducked into the first loo he came to as the tears began to fall.

He locked himself in a stall and kicked angrily at the door, emitting a raw-throated yell each time his foot made contact with the ancient wood. After several kicks, his foot was sore and the door was cracked. Seeing the destruction he had wrought made him feel better until he heard the door to the bathroom open. He sucked in his breath, trying to pretend he wasn't there and hoping whoever it was would leave quickly.

"Sirius? Are you in here?"

Sirius briefly considered not answering, but if Andromeda had gone to all the trouble to follow him into a boys' bathroom, he reckoned she must really want to speak with him. He wiped at his eyes quickly, drying his face with the sleeve of his robes. He didn't want her to know he'd been crying.

"What are you doing in a boys' bathroom?" he asked, his voice thick with tears.

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Sirius, come out here please."

"No." He didn't want to risk anyone else wandering in and catching him blubbing like a baby.

Almost as though she had read his mind, Andromeda said, "I've locked the door. No one can get in. Please come out?"

Sirius came out slowly, trying not to sniffle. Andromeda took one look at his face and enveloped him in a hug. The affection was too much for him; he felt suddenly overwhelmed as his sobs broke once more. He hated every tear that fell onto her shoulder. He couldn't figure out what was the matter with him these days. He couldn't make himself stop crying last week when McGonagall caned him, either. He had been so distraught to learn that he wasn't safe from caning, even here, that the sobs had just sprung forth, unbidden and unwanted, from somewhere deep inside of him.

Sure, he understood in the abstract that people sometimes got caned at Hogwarts. Bella, in particular, always enjoyed reminding him of that little tidbit - and telling him that getting it there would be even worse than getting it from his father. But then Andromeda had said that they hardly ever caned people and that he didn't have anything to worry about, and he trusted her to tell him the truth. He had been such a coward that day, letting James take the brunt of the punishment alone.

He knew immediately what James was trying to do. Sirius had done the same thing for Regulus many times, after all. He wanted to stop his friend from taking all the blame onto himself. He wanted with all his heart to tell McGonagall that James was lying and that he, Sirius, was really that guilty party. He wanted to shout out that James should be the one who was let off, but he couldn't make his mouth work, somehow, and so he had just stood there stupidly, crying his eyes out like he was five years old, and let James take the fall. He was surprised James still wanted to be friends with him after such a disgusting display.

Even after he was informed that he would only be getting two, he hadn't been able to calm himself. He was sure McGonagall was lying to him, trying to lull him into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under him. But then she really had only given him two, and she had only given James five - though he carried on as if it had been much more, not that Sirius blamed him. Having the parents he had, James had probably never been punished so severely in his life. And McGonagall's cane had bloody well hurt, even if it had been only two strokes. He was sure five had been downright miserable.

Andromeda pulled Sirius to arms' length and looked at him. "What happened?"

Sirius pulled his mother's letter from his pocket, handing it over mutely. Andromeda's mouth fell into an "O" of shock as she read it. "What is the matter with her? Honestly!" she exclaimed angrily. She looked at Sirius and her expression softened. "You know this isn't your fault, right?"

Sirius nodded, but it was a lie. Andromeda reached out and took his chin in her hand, gently bringing his eyes up to hers. Silver meeting silver. "It isn't," she repeated emphatically. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm going to have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas!" Sirius wailed.

"Lots of people stay here for Christmas. It won't be so bad. And maybe Uncle Alphard will let you stay with him. He's always been fond of you, and you know how much he likes to make your mother angry."

Sirius looked at the ground, sniffling. He didn't want to spend Christmas with Uncle Alphard, and he certainly didn't want to be a pawn in his uncle's ongoing power struggle with his mother. He wanted to spend the holiday at home with his family like a normal person! He wanted to see Regulus! He wanted to be genuinely wanted. Somewhere. Anywhere.

"Why do they hate me so much?" he stuttered as fresh sobs broke forth.

Andromeda sighed and pulled him close once more. "They don't hate you," she said reassuringly.

"Yes, they do!" Sirius argued. "They were probably glad when I came to Hogwarts so they could be rid of me!"

"They don't hate you," Andromeda repeated, an air of authority in her tone. "They're just very... well... I don't know. But I know they don't hate you. I'm sure of that much."

Sirius pulled away from her, staring at the damp splotch his tears had left on her shoulder. "I got your clothes wet," he said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I don't mind," she said. She went to a stall and got him some toilet paper, handing it to him.

"I'm sorry for crying," he whispered as he took the proffered paper and used it to dry his face.

"Sirius, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'd have cried too if this had happened to me." She hugged him again, kissing him on top of his head. "I wish things were better, Shorty."

"Thanks," Sirius muttered.

She looked at him and smiled. "Did you know that you are one of my favorite people?"

Sirius shook his head as someone began to knock at the door. He jumped as the sound echoed loudly across the tiles. "Sirius?" James called, his voice sounding muffled through the heavy oaken door. "Are you in there? Where did he go?"

"Maybe he went back to the dormitory," Remus suggested.

Andromeda opened the door and stuck her head out. Sirius retreated to his battered stall. His cousin was one thing, but he certainly didn't want the Marauders to see him blubbing.

"He's in here," Andromeda said.

"Is he okay?" James asked.

"He's fine. He just needs a few more minutes. You should go on to class. He'll be right behind you."

"We brought his bag," Peter said.

"I'll take it. Thank you," Andromeda replied.

Sirius listened as the Marauders agreed and charged away, yelling and taking the mickey out of one another. He let out a small laugh. He was really lucky to have such great friends.

"Are you going to be okay to go to class?" Andromeda asked after she had coaxed him out of the stall once more.

"Yes," Sirius replied glumly.

Andromeda gave him a sad smile. "Someday, they'll realize how wonderful you are."

"I'm not wonderful," Sirius said softly, moving his smoldering gaze to the tiled floor. "I'm nothing."

"You are most certainly not nothing! Look at you. Everyone in the whole school is off trying to buy stuffed dragons and hippogriffs and trolls just because you thought it would be a good idea to have a dorm mascot. All your teachers like you. Hagrid will show anyone who stands still long enough that picture you drew for him. Every girl lower than fourth year wants to date you. Your friends think you practically hung the moon. You're smart. You're funny. You're talented. And if your parents can't see it, that's their fault, not yours."

Sirius sucked in his breath as he blinked back yet another round of tears. He wasn't sure how to respond to so much praise. "I should go," he said. He lifted his bag from the doorknob, where Andromeda had hung it, and left the bathroom, rushing to make it to class.

He kept his head down most of the day, speaking only when spoken to. He probably paid closer attention in his classes that day than he ever had before. When no one was looking, he opened the letter and stared at it, reading it over and over until it began to tear at the creases and the words were carved into his memory. No matter how many times his friends asked him what was wrong, he wouldn't tell them.

When it came time for the Halloween feast, he decided he didn't want to go. He wasn't hungry anyway, and he certainly wasn't in any mood to celebrate. Instead he went to his dormitory, reveling in the silence. He climbed into his bed and pulled the curtains, pulling out the letter to look at it once more as tears made tracks down his face.

He curled up into a little ball and pulled his covers over his head, feeling safe and warm in the cocoon he had created for himself. He thought of building fortresses with Regulus when he was little, and how they had loved pretending to be princes of their castle, out slaying giants and rescuing princesses. Regulus would pretend that Gawain was his steed, declaring himself "Sir Regulus the Dragon Rider". Before their father burned it, Sirius would pretend that his favorite stuffed hippogriff was his steed, making the loss of the toy all the more potent the first time they played the game after he had been forced to watch it burn.

They would pretend to fly over land and sea together on their monstrous mounts, saving people everywhere from the terrors of the world. Sir Regulus the Dragon Rider and Lord Sirius the Hippogriff Tamer. They thought that nothing could hurt them if only they could stay put in their stronghold of cushions and quilts. Sirius wished he could build himself a little fortress now, but he no longer believed that childhood fantasies could protect him, no matter how much he wished they would.

Sirius held his breath when someone came into the dormitory. Couldn't he have a moment's peace? He wished whoever it was would leave; he didn't want to see anyone. Except maybe Regulus. Sirius heard his curtains being opened and curled up tighter. A moment later, someone pulled the blankets off of his head. It was James.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

Sirius didn't answer.

James watched Sirius with sadness in his eyes, but said nothing as he backed away and sat on his own bed. Sirius turned his back on his friend, ashamed of his tears. "Would you like me to get you a handkerchief?" James asked.

"No."

James spoke no more. He was so silent, Sirius began to wonder if he had left, but when he rolled over to see, James was still sitting there, staring at him as though waiting for something.

"What do you want?" Sirius asked.

"I want you to be happy," James replied.

Sirius wasn't sure what to say to that. "I can't," was what he finally settled on. He took the letter from his pocket, where he had hastily thrust it the moment James came into the dormitory and handed it to his friend without a word. James' mouth turned down in a frown as he read it. Sirius' throat tightened, watching his friend's reaction.

James lifted his head and met Sirius' eyes. His face was grave. "Well, you'll just have to come to my house, then," he said.

Sirius gasped. "Could I?" he whispered. Spending Christmas with James would be wonderful, and if half the things he said about his mother's cooking were true, Sirius was sure he'd love it at the Potters'. It would certainly be better than spending the holiday alone at Hogwarts.

"Yes, of course," James said reassuringly. "I'll have to ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll say yes. They always do. They can't say no to me." James winked at Sirius and Sirius managed a small smile. "Do you want this back?" James asked.

Sirius sat up. "Yeah," he said softly, reaching for the letter. "It's the only one she's sent me all term."

"That's awful!" James cried, suddenly indignant.

Sirius shrugged. "It's normal. My parents don't like me much."

"How could anyone not like you? You're brilliant!"

Sirius shrugged again.

"You are!" James insisted. "You're my best mate."

Sirius smiled a little at James' words. "You're my best mate, too."

"You want a biscuit?" James asked, offering his mother's latest batch.

"Sure," Sirius agreed, taking one. He took a bite of it. "Mmm. I think she's outdone herself this time."

"You think these are good, just wait until Christmas. They're amazing when they're right out of the oven. And she lets me lick the bowl. She'll let you do it, too."

"Lick the bowl?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, sure. When she's done mixing up the biscuits, she gives me the bowl and a spoon and I can eat all the batter she doesn't use. It's the best. Sometimes she leaves extra in there just so I can eat more. You'll love it."

Sirius had to admit that did sound good. "Thanks, James," Sirius said. "I feel much better now."

"Do you want to go down to the Great Hall? The Feast is probably still going on, and you didn't eat anything at lunch."

Sirius considered that for a moment. Now that he thought about it, he did feel hungry, and Andromeda had told him the Halloween Feast at Hogwarts was a sight to behold.

"Okay," Sirius agreed.

"Race you!" James said, taking off running.

"No fair!" Sirius called behind him, running to catch up. But it was a losing battle. James' legs were longer.

They were out of breath but laughing when they arrived at the Great Hall, taking their usual places across from Remus and Peter. Sirius piled his plate high with food and tucked in. He hadn't realized until he started eating just how hungry he was.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked.

Sirius nodded.

"We were worried about you," Peter told him.

"I'm fine now," Sirius said around his mouthful of food. He turned to look at James, who gave him a wink before tucking into his own dinner. Sirius looked around the hall at the decorations. They really were quite spectacular. Suddenly, he remembered his plan to climb into a pumpkin.

"Peter, quick, I need a distraction."

"What for?"

"I'm going to commandeer a pumpkin."

"And do what with it?" James asked.

"I've no idea. I was thinking of climbing inside and scaring the pants off people."

"That's no good," Remus said, a grin lighting up his features. "Do you think we could get one to the top of the Astronomy Tower?"

"I think we could," James replied. "But what would we do with it once it was up there?"

"Throw it off, of course," Remus said nonchalantly.

All four boys laughed, thinking of giant pumpkins sailing off the Astronomy Tower.

"I think I've got an even better idea," Sirius said suddenly, his eyes growing wide with excitement. "Help me levitate them."

No one in the Great Hall noticed when the four largest pumpkins slowly began to rise from their places on the floor. By the time they had come to rest above the Slytherin table, the entire hall was watching in rapt silence. The Slytherins who were intelligent rose swiftly and backed away, sure that no good could come of this new development. The ones who weren't intelligent sat and stared, asking one another what was going on and if it was part of the evening's entertainment. They were still wondering when the pumpkins exploded one by one, covering anyone beneath them in slimy orange pumpkin innards.

Sirius exploded into loud laughter, and soon the entire hall had joined in, even, surprisingly, the staff and a few of the Slytherins who had managed to escape the gooey rain. Even McGonagall cracked a smile. "We have got to do that again next year," Sirius whispered to the others as McGonagall turned her gaze on them. Sirius plastered a look of purest innocence on his face and smiled at her. She began to chuckle, slowly shaking her head. Beside her, Dumbledore was nearly beside himself with joy.


	15. Peter: 8 November, 1971

Peter: 8 November, 1971

"When we wake up, it'll be my birthday!" Peter exclaimed excitedly as he snuggled under his blankets.

"Really?" James asked, sitting up in his four-poster. "Your birthday's coming up soon? I had no idea! You should have said something!"

"You know, now that you mention it, James, I think I may have heard something about Peter having a birthday," Sirius said, coming out of the bathroom with his toothbrush.

"He may have mentioned it a few times," Remus added, climbing into bed.

"Only if a few means a thousand," James finished.

Peter stuck his tongue out at his friends. He wasn't going to let their meanness get him down today. "You're just jealous it's not your birthday," he accused.

"You know, that's a good point you make," James said. "When is everyone's birthday?"

"Mine's in March," Remus said.

"Really? So's mine! What day?" James asked.

"The tenth."

"Mine's the twenty-seventh. Maybe come March, we could have a party together."

"Maybe," Remus said, biting his lip nervously. James didn't see his friend's hesitation; he had already turned to Sirius.

"What about you, Sirius?"

"October."

"October?" James questioned. "You mean, the October that just passed?"

Sirius nodded. "That would be the one... unless there's a secret October that the ministry's been keeping from us."

"Why didn't you say anything?" James asked, looking affronted.

Sirius shrugged. "Birthdays aren't really a big deal at my house."

"They are at mine," James commented. He launched into a long explanation about birthday celebrations at Potter Manor involving mounds of presents and cakes with seven layers and color-changing icing. Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn't understand why anyone would believe James' lies about his parents. No parents really gave their children all of that. He also couldn't understand why it was that James and Sirius always insisted on stealing his spotlight. It was his birthday, after all, not James'. They should have been talking about Peter. And yet, somehow, James was the one who had managed to command everyone's attention.

"My parents were supposed to be too old to have children when I was born. I was a miracle," James finished.

"I was an accident," Sirius replied.

"How can a person be an accident?" James asked.

"Your parents actually tell you that you were an accident?" Remus asked.

Sirius' only reply was a shrug. He didn't seem to like talking about his family very much. Peter couldn't comprehend why. If his parents were rich socialites, Peter would probably talk about them as much as James talked about his parents, which was quite a lot.

"Well, we have to celebrate your birthday, mate," James said, reclaiming the conversation.

"Wait just a minute. My birthday's the one that's tomorrow!" Peter protested. He knew that James and Sirius never could stand to not be the center of attention for long, but this really was taking it too far.

"And you can't share?" James asked, as if sharing one's birthday to accommodate everyone else was the most natural solution in the world. Peter bit back a small feeling of bitterness. Why did Sirius have to wait until now to mention that his birthday had just passed? He couldn't he have mentioned it the day after tomorrow or two weeks before or, better yet, when it was actually his birthday? Sometimes Peter thought he did these things on purpose just to make sure no one else ever got any attention.

"Would you want to share your birthday?" Peter asked pointedly.

James seemed to think about that for a moment. "Fair enough. Sirius, we'll celebrate your birthday next week. Maybe we can have a party."

"I really don't want a party," Sirius mumbled, blushing slightly.

"Whyever not? There's nothing better than your birthday. Unless it's Christmas."

"I told you," Sirius explained. "Birthdays aren't a big deal at my house. I don't want you making a fuss about it."

"All right," James relented grumpily. "But I'm getting you a present." Not being allowed to throw Sirius a party seemed to have put James in a bad temper. Peter couldn't help feeling a little resentful about that as well. Not a word had been spoken about a party for him, but when Remus and Sirius were having birthdays, James couldn't seem to wait to throw them parties. Peter wondered if his friends even cared that it was his birthday. They probably wouldn't even get him any presents. He pulled the curtains around his bed huffily and lay awake late into the night, feeling forgotten and unappreciated.

Peter knew the other Marauders had been purposely leaving him out of their activities. Just last Saturday, the three of them disappeared right after breakfast and didn't return until nearly dinnertime, their warm cloaks still around their shoulders and their cheeks rosy from the late autumn chill. When Peter asked them where they had been, they said they had been visiting Hagrid and didn't invite him because they knew he was intimidated by the wild giant of a man, but Peter knew better. They liked Hagrid, but not enough to visit him all day. And besides, Hagrid was a horrible cook, and they had missed lunch. Peter had to wonder sometimes what the other Marauders thought of him if they truly believed he'd fall for a story like that. He may not have been they greatest student, but he wasn't stupid, he thought to himself indignantly.

He had come into the dormitory that night to find the three of them with their heads together on James' bed, laughing and eating sweets from a Honeyduke's bag. They had gone to Hogsmeade without him. They stopped talking the second he approached and hastily put the bags away, as though they thought he could somehow be fooled about where they'd been. All he could think about was how he wished he'd known they were in Hogsmeade. He could have got them whacked again. Well, not Remus. He didn't want Remus to be in trouble, but he had felt a little thrill of accomplishment over getting Sirius and James punished. Not that it had done any good. They somehow managed to manipulate the situation so that they were sympathetic heroes. If anything, being the first ones in their year to get whacked had made them even more popular.

When Peter awoke in the morning, he tried to shake off the foul mood that still lingered. He stepped out of bed and discovered that he was the first of the Marauders to awaken. Dirk and Michael, both early risers, were already in the bathroom. Peter grabbed his things and made his way to the bathroom to wash. When he returned, he found Sirius, Remus, and James sitting on Sirius' bed, whispering and laughing. They stopped suddenly the moment Peter walked into the room. 'Happy Birthday, Peter!" James said cheerfully.

"Happy Birthday," Sirius and Remus chorused.

"Thanks," Peter mumbled.

"Why such a long face?" James asked. "Smile. It's your birthday!"

"What were you talking about just now?" Peter asked. He saw a slightly guilty look cross James' face, but none of his friends spoke.

"Nothing important," Sirius said dismissively. Peter watched them skeptically; it was obvious they were lying.

"Do you want to open your presents now or later?" Remus asked suddenly.

"You got me presents?" Peter asked.

"Of course we got you presents," Sirius replied. "It's your birthday! And you're our friend!"

Peter smiled, the mystery of what they had been discussing forgotten. "I'll open them now."

James moved over to make space for Peter on the bed. "Come on!" he said encouragingly. Peter ran and jumped into the bed, facing his friends. Remus went to his trunk and produced several wrapped packages. He placed them in front of Peter before climbing up next to Sirius.

Peter began ripping the paper off the gifts. There were three bags from Honeydukes filled with all his favorite things. On top of that, James gave him his very own wizard's chess set. It was a nice one; not nearly so nice as James and Sirius' sets, but much nicer than Remus'. Sirius gave him a wizard wireless because he had mentioned in passing a few weeks before that he'd always wanted one of his own.

"When did you get these things?" Peter asked, awed by the generosity of the gifts. He wished he were wealthy enough to go out and buy things like this on a whim.

"We sort of went to Hogsmeade on Saturday," Remus admitted sheepishly.

"I asked my parents to take us," James explained. "We wanted to invite you along, but it's a little bit difficult to buy presents for a chap when he's right there."

"That's why you went to Hogsmeade?" Peter asked. "I thought you just didn't want me to come."

"Of course we wanted you to come," Sirius said easily. "We felt bad not saying anything, but we didn't want to ruin the surprise. Mr. and Mrs. Potter say they might take us again in December. For the Christmas festival."

Peter felt a rush of emotion in his chest, overwhelming him. He vowed then and there to never get them into trouble again. "Thank you!" Peter said enthusiastically. "These are wonderful!"

"Open mine," Remus ordered, pushing the final box in Peter's direction. It was flat and square and wrapped more plainly than the others. The moment Peter opened it, he decided it was his favorite gift. He took it out of the box gingerly, staring at it with his mouth hanging wide open.

"What is it?" James asked.

Peter turned it around to show Sirius and James, and their mouths fell open as well as they stared at it. It was a painting of the Marauders, standing together in front of the castle, their arms draped across one another's shoulders. Peter thought it was the best painting he'd ever seen.

"You've been holding out on us, Remus," Sirius said, clapping Remus on the shoulder.

Remus looked at the ground, blushing furiously. "It was nothing. Hagrid helped me with the frame."

"This is incredible. Where were you hiding this all this time?" James asked.

"I found an empty classroom and worked there mostly," Remus explained shyly.

"I think we should hang this in here," Peter said, taking the painting back from James. "Where do you think we should put it?"

"Hmm. By the door maybe? That way we can all see it," James suggested.

"That's a great idea!" Peter agreed. He hopped up and crossed the room, holding the painting up next to the door. "Does anyone know how to do a sticking charm?"

"I do!" Sirius said, reaching for the wand on his nightstand. A moment later, the painting was secure on the wall and the four Marauders looked up at perfect likenesses of themselves, waving and laughing as though at some private joke.

"Wow," Peter whispered. He had never in his life felt more like he belonged.

"Why didn't you ever tell us you could paint like this, Remus? We could have got you to do our dorm flag."

"I'm not that good," Remus said, blushing. "Not as good as you."

"Are you kidding?" Sirius asked. "I could never do anything like this. Don't sell yourself short. You're really talented."

"We should get ready for breakfast," Remus said suddenly, inspecting the ground as though it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. His face was bright red.

Sirius, Remus, and James ran off to do just that while Peter sat in his bed, listening to his new wizard wireless.

At breakfast, Peter looked up expectantly, waiting for an owl from his family. He was not disappointed. Two owls swooped down to drop letters and packages next to his plate. Then the Potters' owl came and bypassed James entirely, depositing a tin that looked very much like Mrs. Potter's biscuits on top of his pile.

"Here," Peter said, handing it to James. "Your owl made a mistake."

"No, he didn't," James said, feeding him a bit of egg and petting his head affectionately. "Those are for you. She wanted to send you something for your birthday, and I told her those were your favorite."

Peter opened the tin to find it full of the shortbread fingers he so loved. "She made biscuits for me?" Peter asked, hardly believing that anyone would do such a thing for him. Even Aunt Miriam never made him biscuits, and his own mother certainly never did, though he remembered her baking sometimes when he was young. Before she got sick. His father never baked. He cooked well enough, but his meals were industrial things, meant to nourish but never to please. They ate a lot of beans and potatoes at his house.

"Of course she did," James said, tucking into his eggs. "She likes you."

"She doesn't know me," Peter pointed out, furrowing his brow.

"Well, I like you, and she likes everyone I like."

"Your mum's brilliant," Sirius said, helping himself to a biscuit. Peter shot him a withering look that he did not see. He had not been intending to share the biscuits. That was all well and good for James, who had an endless supply, but these were the only ones Peter was likely to get. Peter bit his tongue to keep from protesting as James and Remus both helped themselves to a biscuit as well. When they had finished, he took one for himself and then clamped down the lid, deciding he would hide it in his trunk where they couldn't get to it. He put the tin in his satchel and opened the card that had accompanied the biscuits.

_Dear Peter,_  
_We hope you have a lovely birthday._  
_Thank you for being such a good friend to our son._  
_Best wishes,_  
_Mr. and Mrs. Potter_

Peter smiled at the note. He spent most of his time thinking how lucky he was to have James and Sirius and Remus as friends. He never thought about them feeling lucky to have him. He didn't think anyone had ever considered themselves lucky to have him before.

He reached for the next gift, this one from Aunt Miriam. It was a scarf in Gryffindor colors. He opened the note slowly.

_Happy Birthday, Peter!_  
_We are so proud of you!_  
_May your special day be full of good cheer._  
_Love,  
Aunt Miriam_

Peter reached next for the note that went along with his parents' gift. There were two there. His mother had written him. He opened her letter first.

_Peter, Where have you gone? Emory says you're at school, but I haven't seen you in ages. You must come home soon. Things are bad here again. I think Emory is trying to kill me. My soup tasted funny yesterday. I think it was poisoned. I was sick all afternoon. I will not eat anything else he offers me. You have to come protect me from him. You have to come home soon. Where have you gone? He says you're in school, but I never see you anymore. Has he killed you like he killed Audrey, my dear, sweet Audrey? Are you what he was burying in the yard last week? I'm surprised he's letting me write to you. I would have written sooner, but he never lets me. He says it's your birthday, but I know better. Your birthday isn't until November. Please come soon, Peter. I need you. He's locked me in here with monsters. They touch my hair when I sleep. Yesterday, I almost saw one when I first woke up. Please come, if you're not already dead._

Peter folded the letter carefully, trying to decide what to do. Aunt Miriam and his father might not know how bad she was. He decided to send the letter to Emory so he would know. Peter knew better than to believe that Emory would ever hurt Delilah. He was hopelessly devoted to her. He always had been, even before she got sick, and no one would ever take better care of her than he did. If it were up to Peter, she'd have been put in St. Mungo's long ago.

"Everything okay?" Remus asked.

Peter jerked away from the letter, startled by the question. "Oh, yeah, fine," he said quickly. "It's from my mother. She's been a little under the weather lately."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Remus said sympathetically. A moment later, both their attention was distracted by a small, pained, "oh" that fell from Sirius' lips.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

Sirius quickly crumpled the letter that he had been reading. "Regulus says since I'm not coming home for Christmas, I have to send Gawain back."

"That's not fair!" James protested. "We were supposed to have him until then! Does he think you're going to steal him or something?"

"No, he just wants him back. I'm starting to think Gawain means more to you than he does to Reg," Sirius said with a smirk.

"He does not," James said defensively. "It's only that mascots are important!"

"Maybe we can find a new mascot," Remus suggested.

"We're going to have to," Sirius said. "Gawain is Reg's dragon. If he wants it back, we have to give it."

"I suppose," James agreed gloomily as Peter reached for his father's letter.

_Dear Pete,_  
_We miss you around here, but I know you're having a wonderful time at Hogwarts. Your mother's been asking after you quite a lot lately. She especially misses you. Have a happy birthday. I hope you like your present._  
_Love,_  
_Dad_

Peter opened the package from his father to find a very familiar book. He stared at it for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. He had a sudden feeling like he might cry.

"What did you get?" James asked.

Peter lifted the book and showed it to his friends, frowning. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1."

"He gave you a textbook!" James exclaimed. "That you already have!"

Sirius elbowed him and said, "It's nice," in a very encouraging sort of way.

"It'll come in very handy if you ever lose yours," Remus said.

"It's a textbook," Peter whispered, his eyes filling with tears. "A textbook!"

"Let me see that," James said, reaching for it. He inspected the book, a very serious expression on his face. "It's a nice textbook, though. If I had all the textbooks in the world to choose from, I think this is the one I'd pick."

"I'd like it plenty enough to have two copies," Remus said, craning his head to get a look at it. "In fact, I'm jealous. I wish my parents would give me another copy of that book. And maybe even a third one! That would just be heaven."

"It's certainly the most useful of our textbooks," James added. "It's by far the best one to have a backup copy of."

"You sort of get the feeling it wants to just jump out of its cover, don't you?" Sirius asked, taking it from James. He tossed it experimentally in the air. "It can't seem to keep still, can it?"

"Yes, it's sort of like it wants to explode," James agreed. He pointed his wand at it, and the set floated into the air, making its way lazily across the hall to the Slytherin table. "I can certainly feel it now," he said. "It can barely contain itself."

"We should give it what it wants, don't you think? Peter, would you care to do the honors?" Sirius asked. "The incantation's 'bombarda'."

"Only you better do it quickly. McGonagall's coming this way," James said casually.

"Bombarda!" Peter said, and to his surprise thebook exploded, raining ink and paper on the Slytherins who had not learned the lesson from the pumpkins. He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Oh, that's a shame," James said with mock gravity. "Such a lovely book, too."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Sirius replied just as McGonagall arrived. "You've already got another one."

Sirius and James claimed full responsibility for the explosion and didn't offer a word of protest when McGonagall dragged them both away by the ear. They came late to their first class, rubbing their ears but grinning. "We have three days' detention," Sirius told the others in a whisper. "But it was worth it. We'd do it over again if it would cheer Peter up." Peter couldn't help but think that he had the best friends in the world. He was beginning to feel a little guilty over having gotten them whacked.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Peter munched on his biscuits happily, and even shared willingly when the group hit the hungry, sleepy three o'clock slump.

"Thanks, Pete," Sirius said, his mouth full of biscuit. "This here's just the thing for a boring class." He said it in a whisper so their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had a bit of a temper, wouldn't shout at them.

Peter scowled. He hated to be called "Pete". At least it was better than "Worm Guts", although they hadn't called him that in awhile. Peter suspected Remus had something to do with that. He wished Sirius and James would listen to him the way they listened to Remus.

After Defense, Sirius declared that they would do no homework on Peter's birthday and organized a wizard's chess tournament using Peter's new set. Sirius played Remus and Peter played James, who was a much more patient teacher than Sirius. Peter was getting much better at wizard's chess with both James and Remus tutoring him, but he still lost regularly. Occasionally, he would beat James, but Peter very much suspected James was letting him win. He always seemed to win right after he got frustrated and declared he was never going to play again.

After dinner, Sirius and James said they had something they had to do and disappeared, promising to meet Remus and Peter in the common room in fifteen minutes, but when the fifteen minutes were up, they still had not returned. Fifteen minutes stretched into thirty without an appearance on the part of the Marauders' ringleaders, and Remus began to get antsy.

"You don't reckon they got in trouble again, do you?" Remus asked.

"I hope not," Peter said, chewing on his lip, and he meant it.

"We should go look for them," Remus said.

Peter agreed and the two set off, Remus in the lead. They searched everywhere they could think of but found no sign of their friends. "You know, the other day they were telling me about an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Maybe we should check there," Remus told Peter.

"Okay," Peter said with a shrug. He followed Remus to the sixth floor.

"I can't remember which one they said it was," Remus confided in Peter. "I'll check this one. You check that one."

Peter scampered off to check the classroom Remus had said. No sooner had he opened the door than-

"SURPRISE!"

Several voices began bellowing out "Happy Birthday to You" in various keys as Remus came up behind Peter and put a hand on his shoulder. The room was decorated with brightly colored streamers and nearly everyone in the year was there - including a few Slytherins.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Peter asked.

"Of course I did," Remus told him. "We've been planning it ever since you told us your birthday was coming up. Next year, we'll have more warning and the party will be even better."

As it was, it was the best birthday party Peter could have imagined. He had had them before, when he was little. But after his mother went mad, Emory had stopped throwing them. Aunt Miriam was furious about it and stepped in after Emory missed the first year and began organizing them herself, but she didn't know many families with children, so they usually turned into very staid, family-only affairs with watercress sandwiches and brandy and boring conversation about politics and culture and ministry matters.

This party had butterbeers and pumpkin pasties and strawberry ice cream and a chocolate cake that said "Happy Birthday Peter" on it.

"We recruited the house elves," James explained in a whisper as Peter cut the cake.

"This is great," Peter replied, also in a whisper. "It's the best birthday I ever had."

As he fell asleep that night staring at the picture Remus had painted for him, listening to the soft strains of music coming from the wizard wireless, and feeling so full of cake and ice cream that he thought he might burst, Peter decided that the time had come to stop feeling sorry for himself. Sure, his mother was still crazy, and probably always would be. And he would never be any of his teachers' favorites, but he had friends. Good friends. Great friends, actually. Friends who would buy him presents and throw him parties and cheer him up when his father was a git. Peter fell asleep that night feeling happy for the first time in a long while, the sounds of his friends' even breathing filling the room.


	16. Remus: 4 December, 1971

Remus: 4 December, 1971

Remus could hardly see through the eruption of snow falling all around him. Beside him, Sirius pulled his hat taut over his ears and brushed powdery snow off the shoulders of his cloak. Next to Sirius, James was busy taking giant steps trying to put his feet exactly where his father's had passed a moment before. Peter was walking beside James' father and chattering almost nonstop at him about everything from classes to friends to his favorite activities. Mr. Potter listened carefully, responding as though everything Peter said were the most interesting thing he had ever heard. Remus felt a new surge of respect and gratitude for the man.

"Doesn't he ever shut up?" Sirius whispered.

"He's having fun," James answered. "Let him be." He stopped and gathered up a handful of snow, crunching it into a compact ball.

"What are you planning to do with that?" Sirius asked warily.

"Watch and see," James said in an undertone before shouting out, "Hey, Dad!"

Mr. Potter turned just in time to receive a face full of snow. He stood sputtering for a moment as James, Sirius, and Remus stopped walking, waiting to see the reaction. Sirius' eyes were very wide.

Mr. Potter shook his head to rid it of the snow and fixed his son with a stern glare. "You are in deep trouble, young man," he said, gathering a bit of snow himself.

James' smile faded suddenly. "Uh-oh," he said, turning to run.

"Oh no, you don't!" Mr. Potter called, chasing after him with the snowball he had just made. He wasn't as fast as James, but his aim was true. A moment later, the snowball hit James in the back of the head. He fell down in the snow and played dead just as Mr. Potter caught up with him and began tickling him until he was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

"No! Stop!" he screeched.

Sirius began to laugh, watching the display.

"You think it's funny, do you?" Mr. Potter asked. A second later, a snowball splatted against Sirius' shoulder. After that, it was an all-out war. Mr. Potter took up refuge behind a large boulder, levitating snowballs into the boys' faces until they ganged up on him and drove him out of his safe haven. They didn't stop until they were all nearly soaked to the skin and their cheeks were red and stinging from the cold.

After a truce was called and Mr. Potter had smashed a handful of snow in James' face one last time for good measure, he did a complicated motion with his wand and hot air blew out the end. He dried each boy in turn before turning the wand on himself. Once they were all dry and warm, he started back on the road toward Hogsmeade as though nothing had happened. Peter resumed his idle chatter, replaying his own actions in the snowball fight blow by blow.

"Did you see it?" he asked after he had related each of his maneuvers. Mr. Potter cheerfully replied that he had seen each move and praised Peter's snowball-throwing prowess.

"Can you teach me how to do that hot air wand thingy?" Sirius asked suddenly. Mr. Potter gamely obliged. By the time they reached Hogsmeade, everyone except Peter had mastered it.

When they arrived in town, the boys flitted from shop to shop and stall to stall, taking in the sights. Mr. Potter stopped regularly to speak with shopkeepers and fellow holiday shoppers. The boys grew bored with it quickly and left him behind, ducking into Honeyduke's.

The sweet shop was heavily decorated for Christmas, with special chocolates shaped like presents and eye-poppingly bright confections from wall to wall. Peter looked as though he had died and gone to Heaven. "My dad bought us all a bag of sweets last time," James informed him. "He probably will again if we ask him."

Mr. Potter entered at that moment, looking around for the boys. "How did I know I would find you in here?" he asked, a large smile on his face.

"Boys are all the same" Mr. Flume, the shop owner, said with a knowing nod. Mr. Potter told the boys to pick out a bagful of sweets and he'd buy it for them. Then he and Mr. Flume chatted amicably while the boys walked greedily around the shop trying to decide what to choose.

"How do you ever decide?" Peter asked. "Everything looks so good!"

Remus was reluctant to pick much. The last time, he had refused to let Mr. Potter buy him anything until Mr. Potter insisted. "My feelings will be hurt if you don't let me get you something," he had said, and so Remus relented and picked a few things. As they were walking back up to the castle, Mr. Potter had forced a full bag into his hand. "Healer's orders," he said with a wink.

Today, Remus knew better than to argue, so he filled his bag just as full as Sirius and James and Peter did. Mr. Potter paid for the sweets and the boys began eating them immediately as Mr. Potter remained in conversation with the Flumes.

"Come on, Dad! Let's go!" James said, pulling Mr. Potter's hand. Mr. Potter ignored him, talking to the Flumes as though nothing were happening. James was digging his heels into the ground, pulling so hard he was nearly horizontal. Suddenly he lost his grip and fell to the floor, taking a display of chocolate frogs with him. Several of the frogs escaped their packaging, jumping all over the store. Beside Remus, Sirius gasped, closing his eyes as Mr. Potter went to James and held a hand out toward him.

"James," Mr. Potter scolded, helping him to his feet. He was holding his wrist and wincing, pain showing clearly on his face. "Are you hurt?" Mr. Potter asked, and Sirius exhaled noisily. Remus turned and saw that he looked a little pale.

"Here, let me see," Mr. Potter said, taking James' wrist gently. He inspected the wrist, turning it this way and that and placing his wand against it. "Just twisted," he reported. He waved his wand and James' face softened. "Better?" Mr. Potter asked.

James nodded, testing the joint gingerly. "Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"You have to be careful, Son," Mr. Potter replied. He turned to Mr. Flume. "How much do I owe you for the frogs?"

"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Flume said with a wave of her hand. "It's not the first time we've had an accident in here, and it won't be the last."

"Are you sure?" Mr. Potter asked.

"Of course we're sure," Mr. Flume replied. "You're such a good customer. We're hardly going to quibble with you over a few frogs."

"Well, thank you. Although, while I'm here, I need to replenish my stock of fizzing whizbees. There's a little girl on my ward having a hard time with spattergroit, and they're her favorite."

When his stock of fizzing whizbees, and a few other of his young charges' favorite sweets, had been replenished, the merry little band set off once again, the boys munching happily on their sweets.

Remus stopped suddenly when a storefront window caught his eye. In the display was a series of necklaces. Each had a shimmering opal. Blue and green fire seemed to burn within them as Remus stared. Opals were his mother's favorite. He looked at the necklaces and found one he liked; a teardrop-shaped stone on a shining gold chain. He wanted more than anything to buy it for her. He smiled thinking of how happy she would be to open such a beautiful necklace on Christmas morning. His eyes found the price, and he sighed. His parents gave him a small allowance, and his aunts and uncles helped how they could, but money had always been tight in his house. He saved his coins carefully for Christmas, but he would never be able to afford that necklace. He looked at the rest of the display and found one that he could afford: the smallest one on a thin silver chain.

"Ooh! Look!" James said suddenly, coming up behind him, pulling his dad along. He had clearly learned nothing from the incident in the sweet shop.

Remus startled out of his dream-induced fog and gave the large necklace on last, longing look as the Marauders descended upon him.

"I was thinking of buying one of these for my mother," Remus explained to them.

"Which one?" Sirius asked.

Remus pointed to the small one. It was so tiny he was almost embarrassed to do so. "That one," he said glumly.

"It's pretty," James declared. "She'll love it." The Marauders had grown to know Charlotte a little during Remus' last two transformations. Sirius and James spent as much time as they could with Remus in the hospital wing, which meant talking with Charlotte and Daniel while Remus was sleeping. They liked her and, perhaps more importantly, she liked them and had already mentioned that she felt better about sending Remus back next term knowing he had friends. Peter usually dropped in for brief visits, but he didn't set up camp the way James and Sirius did. Remus suspected it had something to do with his mother's mysterious illness; Peter was clearly uncomfortable in hospitals.

"You don't think it's too small?" Remus asked softly.

"I think it's perfect," Sirius said authoritatively. "You should definitely get it. It's the prettiest one in the whole window. You've got a good eye."

"Nah," Remus said, pointing to the first one he had chosen. "That one's prettier."

"That one's bigger," Mr. Potter corrected. "But bigger isn't always better. The one you've chosen is a much higher quality, hands down. Anyone would be proud to have such a lovely necklace."

"Come on!" Sirius said, taking Remus by the hand. "You have to get it. It's perfect!"

Sirius dragged Remus into the store and went on about how pretty the necklace was and how much his mother would love it as the shop owner wrapped it carefully.

"Your friend is right," the shop owner agreed. "Your mother will love this. It's an excellent choice. You have magnificent taste."

After Remus had paid, feeling much better about the necklace he had chosen, Mr. Potter ushered them all out, asking where Peter had gone off to. They found him with his nose pressed against the glass at Zonko's. "Last stop before lunch, gentleman," Mr. Potter announced, holding the door open for them. "I'm half famished."

When they left Zonko's, all their purses were considerably lighter and the boys were inclined to agree with Mr. Potter's assessment that it was well past time for lunch. Crunching across the still-falling snow, they made their way to the Three Broomsticks for hot butterbeers and open-faced turkey sandwiches. It tasted like Heaven to the hungry group.

During lunch, Mr. Potter asked them about their classes and if they were staying out of trouble.

"We got detention last week," Peter said between bites of sandwich.

Sirius kicked him under the table. "Shut up, you idiot!" he said, his face twisting with anger.

"That's quite enough of that," Mr. Potter said in the sternest voice Remus had ever heard him use. It was the sort of tone that demanded obedience.

"Sorry," Sirius said softly, ducking his head. He glanced up fearfully at Mr. Potter, who reached over and patted him on the shoulder. Sirius flinched at the contact. Remus was sure Mr. Potter had to have seen it, but he showed no reaction.

"It's quite all right," he said. "But, you know, friends are a very special thing. You have to treat them with care. You should be apologizing to Peter, not to me."

"Sorry, Pete," Sirius said obediently.

"It's all right," Peter mumbled, rubbing his shin.

Mr. Potter turned to James. "What about this detention?"

"It wasn't our fault, Dad," James began. "Quentin Avery started it. He called Lily Evans a mudblood, so Sirius punched him. Then Severus Snape called Sirius a blood traitor, so I punched him. Then a bunch of Slytherins showed up and punched Sirius and me, and the next thing I knew, everybody was punching everybody else. Peter was the best, though. He bit Walter Goyle."

"You bit him?" Mr. Potter asked, turning to Peter. Peter nodded proudly.

Mr. Potter gave them a light scolding, though the effect was mostly ruined by the fact that he was struggling not to laugh at James' increasingly bombastic explanations. Still, Remus' insides squirmed; he couldn't bear the thought of Mr. Potter being cross with him.

By the time they left the Three Broomsticks, everyone was watching as he reenacted the fight in front of the bar, and Mr. Potter had given up trying to scold altogether. When he finished his reenactment, the laughing crowd burst into appreciative applause, and James took a bow just as Mr. Potter grabbed him and forced him out the door. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked.

"Love me," James said with a grin.

"Always," Mr. Potter said, throwing an arm around him affectionately. "Only no more fighting. I mean it."

"Yes, sir," James agreed dutifully, but he turned around to wink at the Marauders.

When they reached the castle that evening, the Marauders raced up to their common room, eager to divest themselves of their bags. Only Peter had not made purchases; his Honeyduke's bag was the only one in his possession. They showed off the gifts they had bought for their parents, even though they had already seen them all when the purchases were made. Remus couldn't help but blush when everyone oohed and ahhed over his necklace.

They put their presents away carefully before rushing down to the common room, only to find a bit of commotion awaiting them. "Come on, Lily," a second-year boy named Neil Wainwright was saying.

"Yeah, Lily, please," a first year called Lesley Lockett added.

"What's going on?" James whispered to Dirk Cresswell as the Marauders found seats on the floor.

"Lesley told Neil that Lily's a great singer, and he's been trying to get her to sing ever since. Where have you all been all day?"

"James' dad took us to Hogsmeade," Remus said.

"Hogsmeade?" Dirk asked.

"It's the nearest town," Peter explained haughtily. "We spent the whole day."

James rose suddenly and made his way over to the sofa where Lily was, seating himself on the arm. He began poking her in the shoulder. "I'm going to keep poking you until you sing for us," he said.

"I'm going to hex you if you do," she retorted.

"Then as soon as I heal, I'll start poking you again."

"You may as well do it, Lily," Sirius called. "He looks like he means it."

Lily sighed. "Fine," she agreed, putting a finger in James' face. "But you better not laugh at me."

"I would never laugh at you, Lily," James said. Remus looked for the twinkle in his eye that would say that he was joking, but it wasn't there. He had very little sense of humor where Lily was concerned.

Lily began to sing softly, a haunting melody that rose like the tides, washing across the hearts and minds of every student who listened, transfixed by the raw power of her song. Her face transformed into pure rapture as her voice grew into a crescendo, so clear that Remus thought even angels could not sing so well. When the song ended, Remus was hungry for more. The last notes reverberated off the wall as Lily's fingers found their way nervously to twist a strand of her hair. No one spoke. No one even moved.

"Wow," James whispered, breaking the silence. "That was incredible. You're the best singer I've ever heard." Even without a hopeless crush, Remus was inclined to agree with James' pronouncement.

Lily blushed slightly, looking down at the ground. "You're making fun of me," she accused. "I'm not that good."

"Not that good?" James repeated, incredulous. "You're amazing!"

"My sister says I'm awful," Lily admitted.

"Your sister must be jealous," Neil declared. He took her hand in his and kissed her on the cheek. She looked into his eyes for a moment, smiling shyly before she remembered the watching crowd. She looked around, blushing furiously.

"I have to finish my homework," she said suddenly, rushing off to her dormitory. Neil watched her go, not seeing James' face as it got redder and redder.

He turned back toward the room and just managed to get out, "What do you reckon got into her?" before James tackled him. It was a long while before Sirius and the prefects managed to pull the two of them apart and drag them, still struggling, out of the common room. When James returned from McGonagall's office, he had tears of fury in his eyes. The Marauders ushered him to the privacy of their dormitory the moment they saw his face. "Neil and Lily are going out," he reported.

"Bad luck," Sirius said sympathetically. Remus said nothing. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Why would she go out with him and not me?" James asked, his voice hoarse. He flopped onto his bed, letting out a grunt of frustration.

"Maybe he confunded her," Sirius suggested.

"Maybe he slipped her a love potion," Remus added.

"Maybe she fell and hit her head," Peter finished.

"She hates me," James whinged.

"She doesn't hate you," Sirius said reassuringly. "She doesn't even know you."

"She won't give me a chance!" James cried.

"Maybe she's the sort of girl who likes to be friends first," Remus guessed.

"And you have been coming on a little strong," Peter said. The others turned to glare at him. "What?" Peter asked innocently. "He has."

Sirius shrugged, giving a small nod. "Maybe a little," he agreed. "You shouldn't worry. She won't stay with a creep like Neil for long. He's only interested in her for her looks anyway. You like her for who she is. She'll come around. I'm sure of it."

James sat up suddenly. "What happened to all of that 'if she ever goes out with you I'll eat a venomous tentacula' stuff?"

"I said if she ever married you I'd eat a venomous tentacula," Sirius said with a laugh. "It's very different."

James scowled, flopping back onto the bed. "Neil Wainwright," he muttered. "Honestly."

"You know what you need?" Sirius said quickly. "You need an adventure. I think I have just the thing. Have your cloak ready. I'll wake you at 3 a.m."

James' good cheer returned quickly as he fished the cloak out of his trunk, folding it carefully under his pillow.

"Where are we going?" James whispered as they walked along the darkened corridor, obeying Sirius' instructions on which direction to go.

"Dumbledore's office," Sirius replied.

"Dumbledore's office?" Remus asked. "Have you gone mad?"

"Not yet, but I fully intend to someday. It always seemed like fun."

Peter stopped walking, jerking the others to a stop along with him. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked out loud.

"Shh!" Sirius whispered urgently. "What is what supposed to mean?"

"You think going mad is funny?" Peter demanded loudly.

"Belt up!" Sirius hissed. "You're going to get us caught."

Peter ripped the cloak off their shoulders, tossing it to the ground. "Going mad is not funny!"

"Okay," Sirius said. "Merlin's bony kneecaps. It was only a joke. I didn't realize it was such a touchy subject."

"You shouldn't joke about things like that," Peter said, quaking with anger.

Remus looked back and forth from Sirius to Peter. Sirius looked like he wasn't sure what was happening. Peter looked as though he were going to start pummeling Sirius any second. "Peter," Remus said softly, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder.

Peter jerked away. "I'm going back," he reported. He turned on his heel and stomped down the corridor. Remus was too shocked to try to get him to change his mind.

"What do you reckon got into him?" Sirius asked, scratching his head.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say he didn't think your joke was funny," James replied casually, picking the cloak up off the floor. "Should we go after him?"

"No," Sirius said harshly. "I'm not really in the mood to get shouted at anymore."

"I think we should," Remus offered. "He seemed awfully upset."

"It might be a good idea to let him cool down a little bit. If I were that angry, and the person I was angry with came in and tried to cheer me up, I think it would just make me angrier."

Remus rarely grew angry, so he wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't that it never happened; it was just that he had a very long fuse, and he calmed quickly even once it was lit. "Maybe you're right," he agreed.

"What's the password?" Sirius asked Remus when they arrived at the Stone Gargoyle who guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Jelly Slugs," Remus whispered.

"Jelly Slugs," James told the gargoyle confidently. It jumped to the side, revealing a winding staircase.

"What if he's up there?" Remus asked nervously.

"It's three in the morning. Why would he be up there?" Sirius replied. "You worry too much."

"He does make a good point," James stated as they stepped onto the staircase. They grabbed the railing to catch their balance as it began to move. Remus had warned them it would, but it still caught them off guard when it happened. "We need something to let us know where the teachers are. Do you reckon there's a spell for that?"

"Probably," Sirius replied. "There's a spell for just about anything. The trick is finding it. Here we are!"

The staircase deposited them in front of Dumbledore's inner office door. Sirius stepped out from under the cloak and put his ear to the door. "I think we're safe," he whispered, opening the door slowly. It creaked softly as it swung open. The boys breathed a sigh of relief when they realized the office was empty save for the whirring of several important-looking instruments and the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoring in their frames.

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed in a whisper. "I know that one!" He was pointing to a portrait of a very sour-looking black-haired man with a pointy beard. "There's a portrait of him in one of our guest rooms. He's related to us. He's also an arrogant toerag. He likes to insult Regulus."

Sirius pointed his wand at the slumbering man, and thus the Marauders began their work. When they returned to the dormitory, Sirius and James went straight to bed, proud of their feat of daring. Remus lay awake in bed, trying to work out why Peter would have been so upset over such a small comment. He hadn't been thinking long when he realized that Peter's usual snores were missing. He padded silently to Peter's bed and pulled the curtains.

"What do you want?" Peter asked. He looked and sounded as though he had been crying.

"I don't want anything," Remus replied. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Did you have fun?" Peter spat."Did you even miss me?"

"Of course we missed you."

"Then why didn't anyone come check on me? You know, when someone else is angry, everyone drops everything for him. When I'm upset, no one cares."

"Of course we care. Only Sirius and James thought you might want some time alone."

"Oh, well if Sirius and James thought it, of course it must be true!" Peter turned his back on Remus. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Peter," Remus pleaded. "Please don't be cross."

When Peter turned back to face Remus, his lip was quivering. "You like them better than me, don't you?"

Remus was taken aback by the question. He wasn't the type of person to rank friends and so had never put any thought into it. To him, each of the Marauders was his best mate. "No!" Remus replied in an emphatic whisper.

"You're lying," Peter accused.

"I'm not!" Remus protested. "I would never lie to you."

Peter seemed to accept that response. They stared at one another for long moments, the soft light from the bathroom illuminating their faces. "Do you want to play chess or something?" Remus asked.

Peter nodded, stepping slowly out of his bed. "Why did you get so angry?" Remus asked when they had been playing for nearly half an hour.

"I don't want to talk about," Peter said quickly.

Remus nodded knowingly. He well understood secrets.

"Promise me you won't tell Sirius and James?" Peter said suddenly, unexpectedly. "I don't want them to know. They'll probably make fun."

Remus wanted very much to say that Sirius and James probably wouldn't make fun, but he didn't think it was the right time. He also wasn't sure he could promise such a thing. Sirius and James were unpredictable.

"I promise."

"It's my mother," Peter said softly, his voice nearly a whisper. He stared at the chessboard as he spoke, not meeting Remus' eyes. "When I was five, she had a baby, and the baby was born dead, and she went crazy. For a long time, she wouldn't believe the baby was dead. She thought someone must have killed her. Now she stays in bed and sleeps, mostly, and it isn't funny. She cries and screams a lot and says she wants to die." Peter looked up timidly, as though waiting for Remus to make fun of him.

"I'm sorry," Remus said. He thought about how he would feel if Charlotte went crazy. He didn't know what he would do. He suddenly had a new appreciation for Peter.

"My dad takes really good care of her," Peter explained. "He loves her a lot. She gets to stay at our house and everything. But he doesn't have a lot of time left over. He doesn't care about me. I'm always in the way."

Remus wasn't sure what to say, but he was spared the trouble when Sirius suddenly appeared, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, Pete," he said.

"Don't call me Pete," Peter growled. "I really hate it."

Sirius looked for a moment as though he would like to retort, and Remus hoped with all his heart he wouldn't. Somehow, the prayer was answered and Sirius' face took on its normal carefree look. "I didn't know you don't like it. I won't call you that anymore. And I'm sorry about earlier. I really didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all right," Peter mumbled.

"You playing chess? Can I play the winner?"

"We were sort of in the middle of a private conversation," Peter told him.

Sirius' face fell. "Oh. Okay, then. I'll just go back upstairs." He made his way back to the staircase, shooting the two of them odd glances all the while. Remus had the sudden feeling of being pulled in two directions, and he didn't like it.

The next morning at breakfast, the Marauders barely suppressed their grins when Dumbledore announced, with a twinkle in his eye and a barely suppressed smile, "For the information of whoever sneaked into my office last night and gave all the old headmasters and headmistresses facial hair, I would like it to be known that I have now changed my password. I would also advise all students to steer clear of any and all portraits of Phineas Nigellus Black for quite some time unless you are in the mood for a very long lecture. Having a purple beard has put him in a foul temper." Remus could never be sure, but for the briefest of moments, he was sure Dumbledore looked directly at him and, before taking his seat, gave the tiniest of winks.


	17. James: 18 December, 1971

James: 18 December, 1971

The Potters were waiting impatiently for James and Sirius at King's Cross. James abandoned his trunk the second he saw them and ran to them, wrapping one arm around his dad and the other around his mum.

"We missed you," Gwendolyn told him, kissing him on the cheek as Sirius wandered up, dragging both James' trunk and his own.

"Sirius," Harry greeted him. Sirius held out a hand importantly. Harry shook it. When Sirius held out a hand to Gwendolyn, she ignored it, pulling him instead into a hug. He stood stiffly for a moment, as though not sure what to do, but then relaxed and wrapped his arms around her.

"How were your exams?" Harry asked conversationally as they made their way across the platform.

"Good," the boys reported in unison.

"We were thinking we'd go to Diagon Alley and have dinner at Fortescue's," Harry reported. "Does that sound good to you?"

Sirius and James both agreed that it did. They stopped in at Potter Manor long enough to drop off their trunks before returning to Diagon Alley, where the boys ate hungrily. Lunch had been a long time ago, after all. As soon as they arrived back at the Manor, Harry was called away to St. Mungo's. The little girl with spattergroit had taken a turn for the worst.

After he was gone, James dragged Sirius all over the house, showing off his bedroom and the guest room where Sirius would be sleeping, as well as all the best places to hide when you were in trouble. There were even a few secret rooms that James wasn't supposed to know about. One of them, he was quite sure his parents didn't even know about, but he trusted Sirius not to tell.

When they had finished the tour, they went looking for Gwendolyn and found her in the parlor, knitting a jumper and listening to the wireless. When they appeared, she put the jumper away hastily.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Potter," Sirius said dutifully.

"Thank you," Gwendolyn replied. "Now, what do you two have planned for the evening?"

"I want to be with you," James said, sitting on the sofa beside her.

"You're so sweet," she said, planting a kiss on top of his hair. "Then how would you two feel about playing Gobstones?"

James and Sirius readily agreed and Gwendolyn rose to get them just as a familiar song came on the wireless. "Oh, I do love this song," Gwendolyn said. "It was Mr. Potter's and my wedding song," she explained to Sirius. "It makes me want to dance just to hear it. Jamie, come dance with me."

Gwendolyn held out her arms expectantly. Usually, James would have jumped up to dance with her immediately, but tonight he hesitated, eying Sirius. He didn't want Sirius to think he was silly, dancing with his mother. He shook his head. Gwendolyn gave him an exaggerated frown. "No?" she asked, dropping her arms. "Are you too big to dance with your mother?" James nodded. "Then who will dance with me?"

Sirius hopped up and stood in front of her. "I'll dance with you."

"Why, thank you," she said, smiling at him. He bowed low and she curtseyed in response. "Such a gentleman," she exclaimed. The two of them began to twirl around the room, laughing. James laughed along with them. Gwendolyn loved to dance and had taught James from the time that he was very young. He was quite good, but watching them, he knew he'd never be as good as Sirius; he moved with a grace that James could never hope to achieve. "I believe you're the best dancing partner I've ever had," Gwendolyn told him, giving him a one-armed hug without missing a step. James stopped laughing, his stomach tying into knots. She always said James was the best partner she ever had. Suddenly, James didn't want Sirius dancing with his mother anymore.

He leapt off the sofa and tapped Sirius on the shoulder. "My turn," he declared. Sirius stepped aside politely.

"Not too old anymore?" Gwendolyn asked cheerfully, taking his hands in hers.

After only a few minutes, James felt a tap on his shoulder. "My turn again," Sirius said.

"No," James replied harshly. "Still my turn."

Gwendolyn stopped dancing. "Jamie?" she questioned. "It's okay if he wants to cut in. I'll dance with you again come the next song."

"No," James asserted. "I'm the one you dance with." He wasn't sure why, but suddenly he felt angry. His mother was looking at him sadly, disappointment beginning to creep into her eyes. It made him feel even angrier.

"It's okay," Sirius said. "You two can keep dancing. I like to watch."

"Thank you, Sirius, that's very kind," Gwendolyn said. "But I think we're done. Let's play Gobstones."

James normally enjoyed playing Gobstones, but today he did not. He began losing to Sirius from the very first move and never managed to catch up. The fact that Gwendolyn was watching and complimenting Sirius' moves didn't help. She complimented James' moves, too, but he didn't notice that quite as much. When Sirius won, James swept the Gobstones off the table angrily, startling everyone.

"James Michael!" Gwendolyn scolded, standing as well. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing!" James shouted. Now she was shouting at him as well. In front of Sirius. "I just don't like Gobstones!"

"Well, that's no excuse to behave this way. You need to come and clean them up, please." James looked at Sirius, who was staring at the ground, probably thinking James was a baby whose mummy shouted at him all the time. Still not entirely sure why he was so angry, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her defiantly. "No."

Gwendolyn cocked her head, narrowing her eyes at James. "No?" she repeated.

"No," James stated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded very like his father's was telling him to stop, but he couldn't make himself, somehow.

"If that's how you're going to behave, you can just leave," Gwendolyn decreed. "Go to your room."

James temper flared dangerously close to the surface. Now she was sending him away. He stood in the middle of the room huffing. Sirius coughed nervously, still staring resolutely at the ground. James looked back and forth between them and made a split-second, irrational choice. He chose to make a stand. "I will not."

Gwendolyn's eyes grew wide. She didn't have much of a temper to speak of, although when she lost it she tended to do a thorough job of it. Looking at her face now, James immediately decided he'd made a tactical error and opened his mouth to apologize. He never got the chance. His mother crossed the room in two steps, grabbed his arm, and escorted him to the door. "You will go to your room now!" she shouted. She punctuated the word "now" by giving her son a little shove toward the staircase. James felt his cheeks burn, thinking of Sirius listening to his mother shout at him.

"Fine!" he shouted back, stomping away. He stomped all the way up to his room and slammed the door as hard as he could, breathing heavily. Let them have a great time without him. He didn't care. He decided he was never going to speak to either of them again. That would teach them.

By the time a knock came at the door nearly an hour later, James had calmed, but was far too embarrassed to go apologize. His still had his pride, after all. "Come in," James called forlornly, looking up. He expected his mother to enter, but instead it was his father who came in and sat next to him on the bed.

"Your mother tells me you threw a temper tantrum," Harry said casually.

"It wasn't a temper tantrum," James explained defensively. "I just got angry."

"I heard you threw Gobstones," Harry replied.

"Maybe a little," James admitted, his gaze falling to his lap, where his fingers played nervously with one another.

"And that you refused to pick them up again?" Harry continued.

James gave a tiny nod, wincing lightly. He had been busy making excuses to himself for why his behavior was acceptable, but now that he was facing his father, the excuses all seemed feeble and far-fetched.

"And that's different from a temper tantrum how, exactly?"

James shrugged. Harry stared at him for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Mum shouted at me," James reported, not looking up.

Harry nodded. "Yes, she told me she had."

"In front of Sirius," James added, his cheeks burning afresh at the memory.

"I'm sure that was embarrassing," Harry offered sympathetically. James nodded.

"I'm also sure it was embarrassing for her when you behaved that way in front of your guest."

"Maybe," James agreed with a shrug. He hadn't really thought about how his mother might be feeling. Or Sirius.

"James, look at me please." James jerked his eyes up to his father's. Suddenly he felt like crying. "What happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. I just got angry. Sirius is good at everything."

"Feeling a little jealous?" Harry asked softly.

"No," James said quickly. He wouldn't have said jealous, exactly. He began to pick at the blue and white quilt that adorned his bed. His mother had made it for him years ago.

Harry took James' chin in his hand, forcing his eyes upward. "Your mother seems to think the trouble started because you didn't like Sirius dancing with her."

"She said he was better than me," James said, his throat feeling tight.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't sound like her."

"She said he's the best dancing partner she's ever had," James pouted, a waver in his voice. His eyes were filling with tears against his will. He bit his lip, hoping to keep them at bay, but he couldn't. He let out a tiny whimper as they spilled over.

"Come here," Harry said softly, holding an arm out to James. James scooted over toward him and moved into his lap, resting his head on his shoulder.

"It's all right," Harry said soothingly. "Your mother was just trying to make him feel more comfortable. I don't think she was trying to say she likes dancing with him better than with you. She'd probably be very upset if she knew you thought that."

James nodded, trying to stop the tears from falling. But they wouldn't. He'd been a complete and total prat to his mother. And to Sirius.

"Feeling better?" Harry asked after a few minutes. James nodded and scooted off his dad's lap. He was too big to be sitting there anyway. "Here, let me have your glasses," Harry said, reaching for them. James handed them over and watched as his father wiped the remaining wetness off of them before handing them back with a smile. James put them on and looked in his dad's face, hoping the conversation could be over.

"How's the girl with spattergroit?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"She died," Harry told him sadly.

"I'm sorry," James said. His father always took it very hard when he lost a patient.

"Thank you," Harry replied. "It's always hardest when it's someone very young."

"How old was she?"

Harry's answer was a whisper. "Eleven. She'd have been in your class at Hogwarts if she hadn't got sick."

James took the information in silently. It was hard to imagine someone his age being dead. "I'm sorry for being such a prat," he said. His fingers found their way to the quilt once again. Harry put a hand gently over his.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," he said.

"I'll apologize to Mum," James offered, looking into his father's eyes.

"And Sirius, too, I would say. He's your guest, you know. It's your job to make him feel welcome. It can't be easy on him, spending the holiday with practical strangers. Think how you would feel if you couldn't come home for Christmas."

James hung his head. He couldn't begin to imagine how awful he would feel if his parents had told him he wasn't wanted at home. He knew how sad Sirius had been when he found out he couldn't go home. So sad he cried, and Sirius hardly ever cried. Well, not including all the times he faked it to get out of trouble. And now James had been a prat to him on his very first night at Potter Manor over a stupid dance. It seemed awfully silly now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling utterly miserable. He glanced up at his father, wishing the ground would open and swallow him up. "Am I going to be punished?" He deserved it, he knew, but he still wasn't too keen on the idea.

Harry's hand was still over James', warm and comforting. When he removed it, James' skin felt immediately cold as the air rushed across it. His father's face went stern. "I don't think that's necessary. It's obvious you've learned your lesson. Apologize to your mother and your guest, and we'll call it a day. But if I hear about you shouting at your mother again, I won't be inclined to be lenient. Understand?"

James nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Listen to me, James. It's okay to be angry, and it's okay to let others know when you're angry, but it's never okay to use your anger as an excuse to behave badly. And it's certainly never okay to be disrespectful to your mother, angry or not. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Harry stood and held a hand out to James. James reached for it slowly.

"Shall we?" Harry asked.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" James muttered.

Harry gave a small smile. "No, it can't. And anyway, you'll feel better once you've made up with everyone."

"Are they very angry?"

"No. If you must know, your mother feels guilty, and Sirius is worried about you."

"Why does she feel guilty?" James asked as they walked to the door

Harry gave a wry smile. "She always feels guilty when the two of you argue. She's in the kitchen making your favorite biscuits right now to make it up to you." He opened the door and led James through it.

"Really?"

Harry nodded. "She's a very sweet woman, your mother. That's why I married her."

"And I shouted at her," James said glumly. He was beginning to feel as though a bunch of eels were swimming around in his stomach.

"She'll forgive you," Harry assured him. He let go of James' hand and motioned for him to go first down the stairs.

James took a deep breath before going into the kitchen. His mother was just putting a sheet of biscuits into the oven. Sirius was sitting at the little breakfast nook, telling her about the London Lions and why they had the best team in the league this year. "Hello," James said sheepishly.

Sirius and Gwendolyn both looked at him. "I'm sorry for being such a prat," he said, staring at the wood floor.

Gwendolyn smiled at him and crossed the kitchen to pull him into a hug. "It's quite all right," she told him. "You've had a long day." James hugged her back, glad that he had a mother who was forgiving.

"Sorry, Sirius," James said when Gwendolyn let him go.

"No worries," Sirius said with a grin. He reached out and grabbed a bowl off the table, thrusting it toward James. "We saved the biscuit batter for you."

James sat next to Sirius and looked into the bowl. Globs of perfect, gooey batter sat in it, just begging to be eaten. "Did you have some?" James asked.

Sirius shook his head. "I was waiting for you." He picked up two spoons and handed one to James. Then they dug in, scraping their spoons against the bottom of the bowl until it was licked clean.

The next day was Harry's last day at work before his holiday began. Gwendolyn spent the morning with the boys, but left them alone that afternoon while she did some last-minute Christmas shopping. "I suppose it's okay," James told her with mock gravity. "Only you have to buy something for me."

"Why do you think I'm going?" she asked, mussing his hair.

Sirius and James spent most of the afternoon playing in the snow, but the house was still empty when they came inside. Bunnie made them hot cocoa and brought it to them in the parlor as they sat in front of the fire listening to the wireless. It wasn't until a song they hated came on and James hopped up to find a new station that he discovered his father's pipe. He had always wondered what smoking a pipe was like, but his father belligerently refused to let him try. Not even a little.

"Hey, Sirius!" he called, holding up the pipe. "You want to try it?"

Sirius shook his head. "We better not."

"Oh, come on. What's the worst that could happen?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. It's your house. You tell me."

"Nothing's going to happen. My parents will never know. And even if they catch us, they won't care." James was sure that wasn't quite true, but they wouldn't do much. Probably just lecture. The fact that Sirius was doing it with him would probably get him out of punishment; they wouldn't want to punish a guest.

Sirius thought for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Okay," he agreed.

James took the pipe and the pouch of tobacco that sat beneath it. "Do you know how to work it?" he asked.

"You just put the tobacco in and light it."

"How much tobacco?"

"A pinch. That's how my Uncle Alphard always does it."

James followed Sirius' instructions and lit the pipe. He put it between his teeth and inhaled. He immediately removed it and began coughing.

"You're not supposed to inhale it," Sirius said knowingly. "You're just supposed to let it into your mouth and taste it.

"If you know so much about it, you do it!" James croaked, still coughing. He took a large drink of cocoa to get the taste out of his mouth. Then decided it was too much when it burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He swallowed it quickly; it felt hot all the way down. "Ugh!"

Sirius seemed to be a natural at smoking. "You see," he said, making an "o" with his mouth as he blew smoke out of it. "Just a little."

"How do you know that?" James asked.

"Uncle Alphard may have let me try it once or twice. He says he'd rather teach me how to do things responsibly than have me go off and overdo it on my own. Plus, it makes my mother angry. He gave me a sip of firewhiskey last Christmas. She about went through the roof."

James' eyes went wide. "What was that like?"

"It's pretty awful," Sirius reported. "I don't see why anyone likes it, really. It tastes like a cough potion, and it makes you sweat."

"But still, it's firewhiskey!" James breathed.

"That's true, I suppose. Here, you want to try it again?"

James tried again and didn't cough nearly so much the second time. He had the hang of it completely by the time the floo roared to life and Harry stepped through unexpectedly. James glanced at the grandfather clock; he hadn't realized it was time for his father to be home. He hastily put the pipe behind his back. He didn't much care about getting caught, but he'd rather avoid it if possible.

"Hello, gentlemen," Harry greeted them. "Where's your mother?"

James' mouth was full of smoke. He couldn't answer.

"She went shopping," Sirius said breezily, as though nothing were amiss. "We made snowmen this afternoon. Do you want to see? One of them's Dumbledore." James hoped his father would say yes. He was going to have to breathe soon; he was starting to feel a little dizzy. He was also fighting the urge to laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation.

His father was eying him, a suspicious look on his face. "Are you planning to exhale any time soon?" he asked casually. "You're beginning to turn purple at the edges."

James let his breath out with a snort of laughter, figuring that if he was going to be caught, he'd rather be caught red-handed than sneaking around. Smoke curled around his head. He sucked in a mouthful of sweet air. "How did you know?" he asked, awed. His father always seemed to know everything; he wondered when it was that he would gain that skill.

"I smelled it the second I stepped through the floo," Harry explained. "And I saw the smoke behind your back."

James bit his lip to keep from smiling. He had thought he was being so clever, sticking it behind his back.

"Give me the pipe," Harry ordered as another laugh escaped James' throat. He glanced at Sirius, who was doing his best to look innocent.

"This isn't funny, James," Harry scolded. "I have told you more times than I can count that you are not to touch my pipe."

James nodded, trying to look serious, but he couldn't. Smoke was hanging thickly in the air, and Sirius still had not dropped his too-innocent expression. James snickered once again. Sirius had everyone fooled.

"Sorry," James said. "It isn't funny." But when he thought of Sirius blowing smoke like a professional, he laughed again. This time Sirius joined in.

It wasn't the worst telling-off James had ever received, but he thought it might have been in the top ten. He was hardly aware of it at all. What did it matter that he was being shouted at when he had his best mate by his side? He elbowed Sirius; Sirius elbowed him back. Neither of them could keep a straight face.

"Honestly, you two!" Harry scolded. "This is not a joke! You can just both march right to your rooms, and I better not catch you in one another's rooms, either!"

"For how long?" James asked, still snickering.

"Until you're sorry!" his dad snapped.

"But I'm sorry now," James offered.

"Somehow, I'm having a hard time believing that," Harry retorted. "Now go!" James decided it was best not to push his luck and went. As he passed beside his father, the man delivered a single, stinging swat to his backside. Sirius gasped, his eyes wide and fearful. James yelped, jumping around to glare at his father as he rubbed his bum. Harry pointed sternly to the staircase and James went, trying his best to look contrite. He didn't want another smack.

Sirius went right on his heels. At the top of the stairs, he turned to Sirius and winked before going in his room and shutting the door. He looked at the clock, deciding he would stay for fifteen minutes or so, until he was sure he could apologize without laughing, and then go down to make amends with his dad. He didn't want the old man to think his lecture hadn't been effective, after all, and he certainly didn't want him to decide his son needed a few more smacks to get the point across. James flopped down on the bed and picked up his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Nearly fifteen minutes had gone by when the door opened. James sat up in bed, expecting it to be his dad come to lecture some more. James tried to imitate Sirius' innocent expression; he'd have to pretend to be sorry. Instead of his dad, it was Sirius, looking apprehensive.

"You're not supposed to be in here," James said, lying back on the bed and picking up his book.

"I know," Sirius said, fidgeting. "I was just wondering... how long do we have to wait?"

"For what?" James asked casually, flipping the page of his book. This was his favorite chapter.

"For our... you know... punishment," Sirius continued nervously.

"I think we've already had it," James replied. "Weren't you there for all the shouting? He's something when he gets going, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sirius agreed distractedly. "But how long until he... you know... does it? Only I don't usually have to wait at home."

James lowered his book, shooting a confused look at Sirius. What did he think his dad was going to do? "Does what?" he asked.

Sirius stared at the ground. "You know... beats us."

"He's not going to beat us!" James practically cried. He couldn't imagine his father beating anyone. "My dad never beats me."

James could see the relief cross Sirius' face. "He doesn't?" he asked.

"Of course not!" James replied, wondering where in the world Sirius would have got that idea.

The realization struck him suddenly. The lies to get out of trouble, the fear of the cane, the apprehension when talking about his father, the constant worry about his little brother. "Does your dad beat you?" James asked.

Sirius covered the shocked expression on his face so quickly that James wasn't even sure he'd seen it. "Erm," Sirius stalled. "No. Never mind. Just forget it."

He rose to leave, but James jumped up after him, grabbing his arm. "Your dad beats you."

Sirius' lower lip trembled a moment. "It's not that bad," he said, almost frantically. "It's not like he punches me or kicks me or anything like that. He usually only hits me on the bum. I-I don't want to talk about it."

James did not let go of his arm. He had a sudden feeling like he might sick up.

"It's really not that bad," Sirius repeated. "He just loses his temper sometimes. He doesn't mean to hurt us. He really doesn't. He just... he loves us," Sirius said desperately, as though that could make it better.

James let go of him suddenly. "That's why you worry so much about Reg?"

Sirius nodded. "He needs me to protect him," Sirius whispered. "My mother won't do it. I'm the only one who can."

"What does he do?" James asked, his voice trembling.

Sirius sat on the bed. James climbed up beside him. "He uses his cane," Sirius explained. "But it's not like cane at school. It doesn't bend or anything. Sometimes, when it's really bad, I can't walk for a few days after, but even that's better than when Reg gets it. He always cries. I never do. And you never know what's going to set him off. Once, when Reg was four, he beat him until he couldn't walk because he accidentally spilled his milk. But three or four days before that, he spilled his milk, and Father didn't react at all. He beat me until I couldn't walk once because I accidentally stepped on his toe."

"That's awful," James breathed.

"It's not that bad." Sirius repeated that phrase like a mantra as he continued to talk. James listened with growing horror; it certainly sounded bad to him. He couldn't imagine anyone's parents treating them that way. Sure his parents had smacked him sometimes when he was younger, but they had never done anything like what Sirius was describing.

The boys both froze when there was a knock on the door and Harry came in. James felt a sudden appreciation for his father; his kind and patient father who never hurt him, even when he was purposefully bad. He jumped off the bed and ran to his dad, wrapping his arms around Harry's ribs. "I'm sorry, Dad," he cried, tears springing to his eyes.

Harry peeled James away, bending down to look in his face. "It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's not so bad as all that. I'm not cross." He pulled James close for another hug, and James soaked up the affection; he needed it after what he'd just heard. It occurred to him suddenly that there was no one to hug Sirius. That thought sobered James very suddenly.

"I was just coming up to tell the two of you that we've decided to go out for dinner. How does Italian sound?" Harry said, after James had calmed.

"Sounds good," James said, his voice still thick with tears.

"Why don't you go wash your face and meet us downstairs?" Harry suggested. James nodded and ran off to obey. Harry swatted him again as he passed, gently this time. Affectionately.

When he came out of the bathroom, Sirius was waiting for him. "You can't tell anyone," he said. "You have to promise me."

"Why not?" James asked. "If you told my parents, they could help you. They could make him stop. You could come here and stay."

"No!" Sirius insisted. "You have to promise me you won't tell. Please!"

James thought about it for a moment. He didn't like the idea at all.

Sirius planted himself in front of the door. "I'm not letting you past until you promise," he said. James could tell by the look on his face that he meant it. He took a step to the left, and Sirius stepped with him. He took a step to the right and Sirius stepped with him again.

"Sirius!"

"Promise me. Know one can ever know."

"Okay," James agreed reluctantly. "I promise."

That night, long after everyone else was asleep, James lay in bed awake, wishing he hadn't made that promise. He wished more than anything he could go tell his parents everything Sirius had told him. He knew they would be able to help, and he couldn't understand why Sirius wouldn't want them to. Finally, he came to a decision and crawled out of bed. He crept on tiptoe to his parents' room and woke them.

"Jamie?" his mother asked. "Is everything all right?"

"Can Sirius come for Easter?" James asked.

"What is it?" Harry asked groggily. He rolled over and looked at James. "Are you sick?"

James shook his head.

"He's fine. Go back to sleep," Gwendolyn said. She turned back to James. "What is this about?"

"Nothing," James said, glad that the darkness of the room was hiding the nervousness he was sure was showing on his face. "I just think it would be fun, is all."

"Sure, he can come," Gwendolyn said, confusion in her tone.

"What about Summer? Can he come then, too?"

"I'm sure his parents will want him to come home sometime," Gwendolyn said.

"But can he come here?"

"If he wants to, of course he can," Gwendolyn said around a gigantic yawn. "Is that really all you wanted?"

"Yes," James told her.

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes. Good night."

James walked back to his room feeling a little bit better. As long as Sirius was at Potter Manor, no one would hurt him. He wished once again he could tell his parents, but he knew he never would. James Potter was many things, but a promise breaker was not one of them.


	18. Sirius: 24 December, 1971

Sirius: 24 December, 1971

"Do you two think you've been good enough for a visit from Father Christmas this year?" Mr. Potter asked as Sirius and the Potters sat eating popcorn before the fire.

Earlier in the evening, they had all hung their stockings on the mantle. Sirius was surprised when Mrs. Potter produced one for him. "I couldn't let you go without a stocking on Christmas," she told him when he expressed surprise. "I started making it the moment James asked us if you could come." Then she hugged him. She hugged him a lot. At first, he wasn't sure about it, but it didn't take him long to decide he liked it. Now he was sitting next to her on the sofa, resting his head on her shoulder. Next to them, James and Mr. Potter sat on the other half of the sofa in the same position. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were holding hands.

Sirius watched them curiously. His parents never held hands; they never seemed to show one another much affection at all. The Potters did. Mr. and Mrs. Potter doted on one another. They would sit together very closely on the sofa, when James didn't push his way in between him, and they always seemed to be touching. Even at dinner, they played footsie underneath the table. Sometimes Mr. Potter would whisper things in Mrs. Potter's ear, and she would giggle and blush just like the girls at school. Sirius found it very odd. He had always thought that adults weren't supposed to do things like that.

"Dad, I don't believe in Father Christmas anymore," James said seriously, looking up at his father.

"No?" Mr. Potter asked. "Why not?"

"I'm eleven!" James informed him. Sirius smiled a little at his indignation.

"What's that got to do with it? I still believe in Father Christmas, and I'm sixty-one. If you stop believing in him, he'll stop coming."

"Dad," James admonished.

"What? It's the truth," Mr. Potter said innocently. He turned to Mrs. Potter and nudged her shoulder with his own. "Isn't it, Gwen?"

Mrs. Potter nodded gravely. James shook his head.

"Fine," Mr. Potter retorted. "Don't believe. See what happens."

James quirked his lips. "Okay," he relented. "I believe."

"Are you sure?" James asked, a smile playing at his lips. "You don't sound very confident."

"I believe," James said firmly. "Will he come now?"

"Probably," Mr. Potter replied. "But you can't just say it and not mean it. You have to really believe. Otherwise, it won't work." Mr. Potter turned to Sirius. "Do you believe?"

"Yes, of course," Sirius replied. He had never believed in Father Christmas. His parents told him from the time he was tiny that Father Christmas didn't exist. One year, when he was five, Sirius decided he was going to believe anyway, but when Christmas morning came and no presents from Father Christmas materialized, he was devastated. He didn't expect any presents from Father Christmas to materialize this year, either. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd be getting many presents at all. Only two had arrived from home: one was from Reg and one came from his old tutor. His parents hadn't sent him anything, despite the fact that he had sent them each something. He was still holding out a little hope that a few presents would arrive in the morning, but he was afraid to hope too hard.

"I think it's time for a story," Mr. Potter suggested. "James?"

James hopped up and disappeared, returning a few moments later with a children's book. The four of them leaned in close to listen as Mr. Potter read the story. James clearly had it memorized. He spoke along with his father whenever an exciting part came along. Sirius had never heard the story before; it was called _The Night Before Christmas_. Sirius decided he liked it.

"And now bed, I think," Mr. Potter decreed.

"But I'm not sleepy," James argued. Sometimes Sirius couldn't believe how much James argued with his parents. At first, he cringed every time, expecting the Potters to lash out, but he didn't worry about that any longer. They rarely seemed to get angry about anything, and even when they did, they just lectured a bit and sent James to his room. Sirius bit down a newly-familiar pang of jealousy. He wished his parents could be like the Potters.

"You will be once you lie down," Mrs. Potter said. She reached over to James and patted him on the arm. "Up, now. Off you go."

James grumbled a little, but obeyed. "Can Sirius sleep in my room tonight?" he asked suddenly.

"Will you actually sleep?" Mr. Potter asked.

"Sure," James replied. "We sleep in the dormitory all the time, and our beds are right next to one another."

Mr. Potter appeared to think for a moment. He turned to Mrs. Potter. "What do you think, Gwendolyn?"

"I don't see any reason why not, if Sirius wants to, that is."

Sirius thought it sounded like a brilliant idea. He nodded happily. "Okay, then. Go on, both of you."

James and Sirius ran up the stairs.

"And brush your teeth!" Mrs. Potter called up after them. James rolled his eyes to Sirius. Sirius rolled his eyes back. Then they both went to brush their teeth. Sirius went to his own room to change into his pajamas, and when he arrived in James' room, Mr. Potter was in there, shrinking James' king-sized bed to half its previous size. Then he conjured a bed for Sirius.

"Into bed, both of you," he ordered. "And be sure to have plenty of those visions of sugar plums."

"Night, Dad."

"Night, Mr. Potter."

"Night, boys. See you in the morning." Mr. Potter turned off the light and shut the door.

Nearly two hours later, the light was back on and James and Sirius were wide awake, tossing a quaffle and having an enthusiastic discussion on which quidditch team would take the league this year. Sirius insisted it would be the Lions, while James seemed to think the Tinworth Tempests were more likely. The truth, of course, was that the Holyhead Harpies had the best team by far, but neither of them wanted to admit that. James leapt to catch the quaffle, getting his hands beneath it just before it hit the ground.

"You're really good at that," Sirius said approvingly.

"I know," James replied. "I told you I was."

Sirius nodded. James had told him that. Often. James did seem to think rather a lot of himself; it was one of the things Sirius liked about him, actually. Other people may have found it annoying, but Sirius liked a person with a healthy confidence, and James wasn't over the top with it. Not usually, anyway. James threw the quaffle at Sirius, and he caught it deftly. He threw it back to James, a little off center. James had requested he make his throws harder to catch.

James crashed into his nightstand trying to catch it. He knocked the lamp on his nightstand to the ground, where it shattered. The footsteps came immediately. Sirius sucked in his breath, telling himself there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, he couldn't help but think of the broken vase his last morning at home.

Mr. Potter pushed the door open without knocking. Mrs. Potter was right on his heels. Sirius searched their faces for any sign of anger, but there was only concern there. "Is everyone all right?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"Fine," James said. "Only I broke my lamp."

"And how did you do that?" Mr. Potter asked sternly.

"Catching a quaffle," James replied breezily. He tossed it in the air as though to illustrate.

"I thought I told you two to go to bed," Mrs. Potter said, barely suppressing a smile as Mr. Potter went to the broken lamp and repaired it with a wordless spell.

"I told you we weren't sleepy, Mum," James explained.

"No more arguing," Mr. Potter said. "Into bed. Right now. Both of you. And give me that." He took the quaffle and began pushing James toward the bed.

"I'm going!" James grumbled good-naturedly. He pulled the covers down and climbed into his bed. On the other side of the room, Sirius did the same.

Mrs. Potter arranged the covers under James' chin and kissed him on the forehead. Sirius watched wistfully. Then she surprised him by walking over to his side and doing the same thing for him. He closed his eyes when she kissed him. She smelled like flowers.

"Good night, gentlemen," Mr. Potter said, turning off the light. "And I don't want to hear another peep out of you until morning."

He shut the door.

James began to make peeping noises. Sirius rolled his eyes. James was so immature sometimes. In the dark, he heard James start to laugh. Sirius laughed a little, too. "Help me peep," James said in a whisper. Sirius laughed a little more. At least James' immaturity was always funny. Sirius began to peep alongside his friend. Within seconds, they were both laughing so hard they could barely get enough breath to continue.

"That's enough, boys," Mr. Potter's voice called sternly.

James let out one more peep and was silent. "Night, Sirius," he whispered.

"Night," Sirius said, closing his eyes. He was asleep within minutes.

He awoke to Mrs. Potter's gentle morning ministrations. He opened his eyes and rolled over to see her sitting beside him, rubbing his shoulder. "Happy Christmas," she said, smiling. He looked up. James was already awake, sitting up in his bed sipping tea and munching on a biscuit. Although he hadn't said it, Sirius had been a little skeptical when James reported that his mother brought him tea and biscuits every morning. Now, he realized it was true. Every day he had spent at Potter Manor started this way. With tea and biscuits and soft good mornings. Sirius never wanted to leave.

"Happy Christmas," he replied, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He sat up in the bed and stretched. Mrs. Potter handed him a cup of what turned out to be not tea, but cocoa.

"It's Christmas," she said with a wink. Sirius sipped it appreciatively. She made wonderful cocoa. She made everything well, it seemed. Especially sweet things. "Why don't you two get washed up, and we can open presents."

James smiled widely. "We could open presents and then wash up," he suggested hopefully. Mrs. Potter shook her head. "Please?" James continued.

"One present," she allowed. She disappeared and reappeared minutes later, two presents in her hands. Sirius perked up. His parents' presents had arrived after all!

But when he looked at the tag, he didn't recognize the writing. It said the present was from Father Christmas.

"Father Christmas?" Sirius questioned, looking at her.

"Apparently, you two have been very good this year. He practically filled our parlor. I think the floor's beginning to sag."

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed, ripping the paper off his present. It was a book on quidditch tactics. "Thanks, Mum!"

"Wasn't me," she said with a wink. "It was Father Christmas."

"Right," James said, opening the book. "Strange how you two have the exact same handwriting."

"What did Father Christmas bring you, Sirius?"

Sirius tore into the packaging uncertainly, sure the Potters wouldn't have gone out and bought him a bunch of things. He found he had the same book James was now leafing through.

"James told us you like quidditch," Mrs. Potter explained.

"I thought you said these were from Father Christmas," James piped up.

"They are," Mrs. Potter replied, not missing a beat. "We told him what to bring. We give him a list every first of December so he'll know." She gave the two of them another wink and patted James' knee. "Okay, time to wash."

James jumped up and ran to take a shower. Sirius followed at a slower pace. By the time he was washed and dressed and downstairs, James looked like he was about to explode with excitement. Mrs. Potter had made them crumpets for breakfast, and Sirius grabbed one when she offered, thanking her. She also handed him a glass of milk. He looked at the tree and saw that it was as full as Mrs. Potter had said. He spotted the present from Reg and looked around for more familiar paper. He didn't see any. He sat on the sofa next to Mrs. Potter, hoping that his parents had just wrapped all his presents with new paper; he still couldn't bear the thought of having no presents from them.

James dove into the presents and began handing them out, making little piles at each person's feet. When he had finished, Sirius' pile was every bit as big as James'. He looked at the gifts, confused. Not a one of them was from his parents. Besides the one from Reg and the one from his tutor, four new ones had arrived in the night: one from Uncle Alphard, one from Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella, one from Andromeda, and one from Remus. The rest were from Father Christmas or the Potters.

"You bought me presents?" Sirius asked, looking up at the Potters.

"Of course we did," Mr. Potter replied. "It's Christmas!"

"But I didn't get you anything." It hadn't even occurred to him to get Christmas presents for James' parents.

"You didn't have to get us anything," Mrs. Potter told him with a laugh.

"Did anything come from my parents?" Sirius asked.

Mrs. Potter's laugh faded. "Not yet, but it's still early. We'll probably have an owl any second now." Sirius nodded, his heart falling. He knew there would be no owl.

By the time he finished opening his presents, his heart was considerably lighter. Even without anything from his parents, it was the best Christmas haul he had ever had. He would never be sure how they did it, but the Potters had somehow chosen everything perfectly. They hadn't given him a single thing he didn't love. Mrs. Potter had even made him a jumper, gray to match his eyes. He wore it now, looking down at it proudly once and again. The icing on the cake was the gift from Remus: a painting of a green dragon that was so lifelike Sirius almost expected the flames to leap out of the canvas. He watched as it flew over the mountains. James had received a painting as well; his of a lion that roared spectacularly from atop an outcropping of rocks.

"Wow, he's really good," Mr. Potter exclaimed, looking over Sirius' shoulder at the painting.

Sirius nodded, staring at the painting. He couldn't have imagined a better gift. Looking at it then, he knew it would be something he would treasure for the rest of his life.

He set it aside carefully and looked up. "Good Christmas?" Mr. Potter asked him.

Sirius nodded. "The best I've ever had." He meant it.

"Hungry?" Mrs. Potter asked. "I usually make a big dinner, but since it's just the four of us, I thought something small this year. I've got chicken thawing in the kitchen."

"I love chicken," Sirius said as there was a knock on the door.

"Who do you reckon?" Mr. Potter asked, rising to open the door.

"Hello, big brother!" a voice said cheerfully.

James lit up like a firecracker. "Uncle Charles!" he called. A moment later, Mr. Potter led a couple into the parlor. The man was the spitting image of Mr. Potter, although he looked a bit younger. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but Sirius couldn't quite place her.

"Jamie!" the man said enthusiastically, moving forward to hug James. Then he looked at Sirius. "You are new," he said. He turned to Mr. Potter. "Did you have another kid while I was gone and forget to tell me?"

Mr. Potter laughed. "No, this is Sirius. He's a friend of James'. From school. His parents had plans over the holiday, so he's here with us. Sirius, this is my brother, Charles, and his wife, Dorea."

"Sirius Black," Dorea said, looking him up and down. "You look just like your father."

"Thanks," Sirius mumbled. He heard that a lot.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. You look familiar," Sirius said, squinting at her, as though if he looked long enough the memory would come to him.

"We haven't met since you were very young. I'm your grandfather's sister."

"Oh, I remember you now!" Sirius exclaimed. "You gave me a guitar once."

Dorea smiled. "I'm surprised you remember that. You were tiny. Do you still have it?"

Sirius shook his head. His mother had decreed it not an appropriate instrument for him and taken it away. What she had done with it, he had no idea. He suspected it was long since gone.

"That's not surprising. Your mother wasn't too happy when I gave it to you. She seemed to think you should learn only classical instruments. Did she make you learn to play the harp?"

"Cello," Sirius reported.

"That's nearly as bad," Dorea said sympathetically.

"Did you bring me anything?" James interrupted.

"As a matter of fact, we did. But we didn't know anyone else was going to be here."

"That's all right," Sirius said.

Charles handed a box to James. He opened it to find an engraved ukulele inside. "When we get back to Hawaii, we'll send you one... Sirius, is it?"

"He's named for my uncle Sirius," Dorea said. "He was a nice man." She began to beleaguer Sirius with questions about his family. Sirius answered them all dutifully, telling her all he knew about even the more obscure branches of the family tree. Some of the people she asked about, he'd never heard of. Finally, she began asking about his own parents, if they got along decently, if they were good to him. Sirius got the feeling she knew something about his parents that he didn't. In any event, he lied on both counts, reporting that they got along fine, though they never had, and that they were wonderful to him, even thought they weren't.

He found out what she knew later that afternoon. James dragged Sirius outside after lunch to go sledding. When they came inside, they discovered the adults in the kitchen talking. Sirius froze when he heard his name, motioning to James to be quiet. They stood outside the kitchen and listened.

"Does Sirius seem to get along with his parents?" Dorea asked.

"We don't really know," Mrs. Potter answered. "Although they didn't send him any Christmas presents. We went out at the last minute day before yesterday and bought him some just in case, and it turned out to be a good thing. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had anything to open this morning."

"They're probably not happy that he's in Gryffindor," Dorea said. "They always put a lot of stock in having been from Slytherin."

"I never did understand that sort of thinking," Charles said. "Seems kind of silly to spend your whole life bragging about what house you were in when you were fifteen."

"You only say that because you were a Ravenclaw," Mr. Potter teased.

"No, I mean it. Andrew could have been in any house, and we wouldn't have cared." There was a note of sadness in Charles' voice.

Sirius looked at James. "Andrew?" he mouthed.

"My cousin," James whispered. "He died before I was born. He was really little. Eight, I think, or maybe nine."

Sirius nodded and went back to listening. "Orion and Walburga would care," Dorea said knowingly. "They were a mess. I used to worry about Walburga and the children being stuck with Orion. He's mean as a snake. Always has been, even when he was small. When he was an infant, he had this awful, angry scream. Pure temper. And then when he was young, he terrorized the other children. Walburga was devastated when she had to marry him."

"Why did she have to marry him?" Mrs. Potter asked. "Was it arranged?"

"No," Dorea explained. "She turned up pregnant with Sirius, so they got married to avoid the scandal. Even though she was my niece, she was only five years younger than I. We grew up together. We were very close, more like sisters than aunt and niece. She was the sweetest little thing in the world, and pretty as a peacock. Everyone who knew her loved her. She had practically every wizard in England vying for her attentions, but she was picky. Wouldn't have anything to do with a one of them. Kept saying she wanted to marry a man who loved her for herself and not because she was pretty. She had a good head on her shoulders.

"As she started getting older, she stopped getting so much attention. Then she fell in love with a man. I forget his name, but he was an Avery, I think. Yes, I remember now. He was Walter Avery, and she thought he hung the moon. She was just beside herself introducing him around at family reunions.

"We couldn't have been more shocked when she got pregnant. I always suspected foul play, truth be told. She had always hated Orion before that, and she seemed to hate him even more afterward. Her wedding was awful. She sobbed through the entire ceremony, and she wouldn't let him kiss her. I was her maid of honor, and I cried right alongside her. We all did. We knew what Orion was like. He turned her bitter. The last time I saw her was when Sirius was only three or four, and she was downright nasty; couldn't have been more different from the girl she had been, and it was obvious she had no love for her children, especially Sirius. I think she blamed him, as though he could help being born. It was enough to make a body want to kidnap him just to get him away from them.

Sirius listened with a pounding heart long after James got bored and wandered off.

"Are they cruel to him?" Mrs. Potter asked, a hard edge in her tone.

"That I couldn't tell you. Though it wouldn't surprise me. Orion's a nasty piece of work, and he always had a violent temper. I'd like to think Walburga tempered it a bit, but there's no way to know, and even if they are, he'll never tell you. Blacks are taught at their mother's knee to keep the family's secrets. I never saw them do anything to him, but I don't hang around my family much anymore. They gave me so much hell over marrying Charles that I decided I was well shut of them. I can't imagine Walburga being cruel to a child, but as I said, it was obvious she doesn't love him. That was when he was still very small, though. She may be enamored of him now for all I know."

"Orion certainly seems enamored of him," Mr. Potter said. "You should hear the way he goes on up at the hospital. He never shuts up about those boys of his."

"Don't let him fool you. The only person Orion Black has ever loved is Orion Black. He probably only cares about his boys for the bragging rights."

"Orion has never fooled me. The man gives me chills," Mr. Potter said blandly.

"Me, too," Dorea said. "He always did. Even when he was young."

"Those poor children," Mrs. Potter murmured. "Those poor, poor children."

"Speaking of children, we should probably go check on those two boys and make sure they're not getting into anything. I think Sirius just might be the only person in the world who can get into more mischief than James," Mr. Potter said.

Sirius ran away on tiptoes, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. He found James in the parlor and hastily suggested they play a game. When the adults arrived, the two of them were tossing the quaffle with ease, looking as though they'd been doing it for hours. Sirius wasn't paying much attention; he couldn't get Dorea's words out of his head. He was having trouble making sense out of them, with one exception: Dorea had said his mother didn't love him. That part he understood well enough.

Sirius threw the quaffle over James' head. He leapt to catch it and missed. Mr. Potter caught it easily. "What have you boys been up to?" he asked.

"We were outside sledding, and now we're practicing for when we make the quidditch team," Sirius reported. James gave him a quizzical look, and Sirius stared at him, trying to communicate through his eyes that he didn't want James to mention that they had overheard what went on in the kitchen.

"Sounds like fun," Mr. Potter replied. He tossed the quaffle to Sirius, who caught it. "I'd say you two won't have any trouble at all making the team."

"Thanks," Sirius mumbled, tossing the quaffle absently in the air.

He looked at Mrs. Potter, who was standing next to James. She reached over and hugged him, kissing him atop his head. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too, Mum."

Dorea had said his mother didn't love him. Suddenly, Sirius felt like he might cry.

"What say we play a game?" Mr. Potter suggested.

"I don't want to," Sirius said. "I don't feel very good. I'm going to go lie down."

Mrs. Potter made a show of feeling his forehead. When he assured her he wasn't sick, only tired, she let him go, but appeared in his room minutes later with tea.

"Are you sure you're feeling all right?" she asked.

She sat next to him on the bed and pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. His eyes began to burn and his throat felt very tight. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "I miss my family."

Mrs. Potter pulled him into a hug as his face crumpled. "I know you miss them," she cooed. "I'm sure they miss you, too."

Sirius wasn't sure what came over him, but something about Mrs. Potter told him he could trust her. "I heard what Aunt Dorea said about my parents," he confessed.

Mrs. Potter pulled away from him, looking into his face. "What did you hear?"

"That my mother doesn't love me," he sobbed.

She pulled him close, rubbing his back. "I'm sure that's not true," she said. "All mothers love their children." She continued to reassure him until he calmed, but he didn't want to lift his head from her shoulder. It felt so good to have someone hug him and say nice things to him. Still, he allowed himself to be pulled away when she lifted his head gently. "You are a wonderful person," she said emphatically. "It doesn't matter what anyone says. No one can ever take your goodness away from you."

Sirius nodded, waiting for the question he knew was coming.

"Do your parents hurt you?"

He shook his head. He didn't trust her quite enough to tell her about that. He looked up at her, hoping to change the subject. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Please don't tell anyone."

She smiled at him. "I won't tell a soul."

"Not even Mr. Potter?"

"Not even him."

"And you won't tell James I cried, will you?"

"You did?" she asked. "I don't remember that."

Sirius laughed a little through the last vestiges of his tears. Mrs. Potter squeezed his hand. "Drink your tea. It'll make you feel better."

Sirius nodded and obeyed. He was surprised to find that she was right. By the time he finished the tea, he felt enough better to go back downstairs and join the others in their game of exploding snap. By the time they finished, he was laughing along with the others as though nothing was amiss.


	19. Peter: 31 December, 1971

Peter: 31 December, 1971

Peter lay in the bed beside his mother, reading a book to her. She patted his arm periodically, listening intently and occasionally interrupting to help him with a word or tell him he'd skipped a line. He couldn't have been happier. When he came home for the holiday, he was quickly ushered in to see her, and she smiled at him for the first time in years, her eyes looking at him adoringly, almost hungrily. The smile lit up her entire face. She invited him to sit on the bed with her and hugged him and asked him about Hogwarts. Emory stood in the doorway, beaming as he watched the two of them together.

When Peter's letter appeared telling his father and Aunt Miriam that Delilah was having another breakdown, Miriam insisted she go to St. Mungo's. When Emory refused to hear of it, Miriam stunned him and took Delilah herself. They kept her there for nearly a month, and when she came home, she was lucid for the first time in years.

"I feel like we have her back," Emory told Peter." I just can't stop smiling."

Today, Peter would be going to James' house for a New Years' party. Then he would be staying for the weekend, and they would go back to Hogwarts on Monday. Peter was excited to see his friends, but he didn't want to leave his mother again. She didn't seem to want him to leave, either. It was the first time he had ever really felt wanted at home. Even his father was spending time with him; Emory had taken him out in the snow and helped him improve his flying, as well as teaching him how to sled.

Peter finished the book, and his mother smiled at him. "I should be going," he said.

"You don't have to go yet, do you?" she asked. "Why don't you just sit here with me for a moment?"

Peter lay down next to her, and she carded her fingers through his hair the way Mrs. Potter did for James the day he was sick. For the first time since that day, Peter didn't feel at all jealous of James.

He almost hated to go when Emory came and told him it was almost time. His mother kissed him goodbye, and he followed his father to the floo, stepping through after Emory and calling out, "Potter Manor!"

"Peter!" James cried the moment he was through the floo. Peter looked around; James was heading toward him at top speed. Sirius was sitting calmly on the sofa, a smile on his face. He waved just before James pounced. "Come on! I'll show you where you're going to sleep."

"Only don't pull his arm out of the socket," Mr. Potter warned as the two boys ran past. Peter just heard him and Mrs. Potter introducing themselves to Emory as he and James fled up the stairs.

James' house was huge. Peter didn't think he'd ever learn his way around it. He had a bedroom with bathroom attached. Through the bathroom was the room where Remus would be sleeping, although he hadn't arrived yet. His family had spent Christmas in Normandy and were supposed to have arrived back in the country just that morning. Peter put his bag on the bed and rummaged through it for three wrapped packages. He had been surprised on Christmas morning when gifts arrived from each of his friends. He had never even considered buying them gifts. Two days after Christmas, he talked Aunt Miriam into taking him shopping and had managed to find things for everyone.

He took the packages and followed as James led him on a whirlwind tour of the house; Peter got hopelessly turned around as they walked. He wasn't even aware of where he was when they arrived back in the parlor. Sirius was still sitting casually on the sofa, reading a book on solar systems. Mr. Potter and Emory were still chatting; when Peter reappeared, Emory excused himself, told Peter to have a good term, and left.

"I brought you presents," Peter told his friends, handing each of them his package after Emory had gone through the floo.

James tore into his; it was a broomstick servicing set. "Brill, thanks!" James said enthusiastically. "What did you get, Sirius?"

Sirius opened his package, and Peter smiled along with him when he saw what was inside. He had seen it in a muggle toy shop on the way to Diagon Alley and had begged Aunt Miriam to come in with him. They had to go to Gringotts for Muggle money, and then they almost didn't find the little shop again. Just when Peter was beginning to think he'd imagined the whole thing, they rounded a corner and there it was.

"Wicked," James proclaimed, sitting next to Sirius and taking the little green dragon from his hand. "It looks just like Gawain."

Sirius looked up at Peter; he looked completely overwhelmed. "Thank you," he whispered. "It's really wonderful."

"We should name him Gawain the Second," James declared excitedly.

"No," Sirius disagreed with a shake of his head. "A new mascot needs a new name. How about Iago?"

"Iago," James said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I like it."

"What do you think, Peter?" Sirius asked.

Peter was so taken aback at being asked his opinion that he wasn't sure how to respond. "I like Iago," he said.

"Iago it is, then," Sirius decreed just as the floo flared to life and Remus stepped through, with his father on his heels. He and Mr. Potter greeted one another like old friends while James dragged Remus up the stairs just as he had done with Peter a few moments before. Peter couldn't help but laugh at the surprised look on Remus' face when James pounced.

"So, what do you boys think you'll do tonight?" Mr. Lupin asked after everyone had been introduced.

Peter shrugged.

"Shoot off some fireworks," Sirius said.

"And probably make so much noise no one will get any sleep within ten miles of here," Mr. Potter offered, smiling.

"Probably," Sirius agreed.

Mr. Potter laughed. "At least he's honest," he told Mr. Lupin. Peter couldn't help rolling his eyes a little; Mr. Potter had no idea.

"Of course he's honest," Mrs. Potter agreed, sitting next to Sirius and giving him a side-armed hug. Sirius leaned into it, smiling up at her.

After Remus reappeared and said his goodbyes to his father, Mr. Potter turned toward the room. "All right, gentlemen. We've got a ridiculous number of fireworks just waiting to be set off. We only ask that you set them off only if Mrs. Potter or I are nearby. We also have more food than the entire citizenry of Lichtenstein could eat in a day. I'm sure the four of you will be through it in about ten minutes. Mrs. Potter and I would like for all of you to make yourselves at home and have a grand time."

"Can we go outside and play quidditch?" James asked eagerly.

"Of course you can. Only I don't know if we've enough broomsticks. No problem, though. I'll go borrow a few from the McKinnons. Be back in a moment." He disappeared through the floo and reappeared a few minutes later with extra broomsticks. "Alice McKinnon and Frank Longbottom say to tell you all hello," he reported as he stepped back into the parlor.

For the first match, James and Sirius insisted on being on the same team, with the end result that they slaughtered Remus and Peter. So they switched the teams up and put Peter with Sirius and Remus with James.

"Do you think you can guard the goal?" Sirius asked. He glanced over Sirius' shoulder at James, who was deep in conversation with Remus. He looked up and met Sirius' eyes. "You're going down, Potter!" Sirius called across the makeshift pitch in the Potters' back yard.

"Not as hard as you, Black," James called back.

Sirius turned back to Peter. "Don't let anything through," he ordered sternly. "If James wins, we'll never hear the end of it. If you can just guard the goal, I think I can handle the rest."

Peter nodded. He had no idea if he could guard the goal or not.

"And watch James," Sirius warned. "He has a mean right hookshot. If he starts coming up on your left, be ready for it."

Peter nodded again. He had no earthly idea what that meant.

"Ready?" Sirius asked. Peter felt far too nervous to be ready. He hated to think what Sirius would say if they lost because he was a horrible keeper. He took a deep breath, wishing he had been paired with James, and told Sirius he was ready.

"Oi! Slowpokes!" Sirius called across the pitch. "Aren't you finished yet?"

"We've been done for ages! We were waiting for you!" James called back.

"Well, we're ready to take you down!"

"Bring it on, Black!"

Sirius turned to Peter. "Don't float there like a lump," he commanded. "You have to go between the posts to make sure you're covering them or they'll score on you. But be careful to keep an eye on James. He's tricky."

Peter tried to take in Sirius' instructions, but it was mostly lost on him. His only hope was that Remus was even worse at guarding goalposts than he, Peter, was bound to be.

When the match began, Peter quickly got so involved watching Sirius and James zoom and dodge that he forgot to guard the goal completely. He simply sat on his broomstick watching as James threw the quaffle into his goal.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Sirius yelled at him.

"Erm," Peter began.

"Pay attention!" Sirius scolded. "We can't let him win! You have to keep your eye on the quaffle all the time."

"It's just a game, boys," Mr. Potter called from the veranda where he and Mrs. Potter sat bundled up, drinking hot tea and watching the match. The boys ignored him. The game had begun again. This time, Peter was careful to pay close attention, never taking his eyes off the quaffle as Sirius and James traded it back and forth. Peter had always thought the two of them were exaggerating when they spoke of what wonderful flyers they were, but he saw now that they were not. There was not a doubt in his mind that they would both make next year's quidditch team.

A bubble of excitement entered Peter's chest as he watched Sirius take the quaffle from James and zoom toward James' goal. The excitement grew as he got closer and closer. When he threw the quaffle, Peter nearly cheered until Remus caught it. The cheer stopped in the middle of his throat.

"All right, Remus!" James called, smiling as Remus threw him the quaffle. He turned and zoomed toward Peter so quickly that Peter hardly knew what was happening. Sirius turned his broom around and began a hot pursuit, but he was not quite fast enough. Peter was watching carefully this time as James came in on his left. He huddled to the left side of the goal, waiting for the shot. The moment the quaffle left James' hand, Peter knew he would never be able to catch it. It flew wildly to his right and went through the far goal post with only inches to spare.

"Peter!" Sirius shouted. "I warned you about his hookshot! What are you playing at?"

"Do you want to guard the goal, then?" Peter snapped.

"No!" Sirius bellowed. "I can't bloody do everything. If you can't even keep up with his hookshot, you'll never be able to keep up with him out here."

"Sirius, it's not that big a thing," Remus shouted, flying over to where Sirius and Peter were nearly at blows. James followed quickly.

"Yeah," James agreed. "It's only a game. We're supposed to be having fun."

"Missing easy shots is not my idea of fun," Sirius said angrily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It may be easy for you," Peter shot back. "But everyone can't be perfect."

Sirius rounded on him, twisting his broomstick in the air. "I never said I was perfect. But I can catch a quaffle." Peter was suddenly aware of Mr. Potter running toward them. He just wanted Sirius to leave him alone.

"Just shut up!" he screeched, pushing Sirius away.

Sirius lost his balance for only a moment before righting himself. Anger flashed across his face and, before Peter knew what had happened, Sirius pushed him back. His balance was not so good as Sirius', and he went flying off the broomstick. Panic rose in his throat as he flew through the air. It seemed forever before he hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Pain shot through his right arm. The others landed only seconds after him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt him," Sirius said. "I didn't even push him that hard."

Mr. Potter ran to Peter's side and ordered him to stay still as he put his wand to Peter's chest. A moment later, he asked Peter if he could stand.

"I - I think so," Peter answered. He stood gingerly, his head swimming. His shoulder ached. Pain shot through his entire arm when he tried to move it. He cried out in response.

"Don't try to move it. You've dislocated your shoulder," Mr. Potter informed him. "That's the only real injury you've got. You were very lucky."

"I'm sorry," Sirius said again.

"We'll talk about it later," Mr. Potter told him tensely.

"Dad, Peter pushed him first," James offered. Peter gasped, suddenly furious that James would betray him like that. He glared at James, vowing to get even.

"He was shouting at me!" Peter protested.

Mr. Potter closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. "I saw what happened well enough. My priority right now is making sure Peter is okay. Everything else can wait."

Mrs. Potter came running out of the house with a pain potion. "Sirius, I'm very disappointed in you," she said softly. It wasn't a reprimand, but Sirius' eyes filled with tears all the same. He looked at the ground, sniffling. Peter rolled his eyes; Sirius' fake tears were going to get him out of trouble once again. James put a hand on Sirius' shoulder and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, not lifting his head. Peter bit down a lump of jealousy. Peter was the one who had been pushed off his broomstick, but James wasn't trying to comfort _him_.

"Feeling better?" Mrs. Potter asked. She stood next to him and took his hand. Peter nodded as Mr. Potter ordered the other three Marauders into the house. When they were gone, he put a hand on Peter's shoulder. Before Peter even knew what was happening, there was a loud pop and pain shot down his arm. He yelped and squeezed Mrs. Potter's hand. Almost immediately, the dull ache faded.

"That's the worst part," Mr. Potter said encouragingly. "You'll be back to normal in a few minutes now." Mrs. Potter stroked his hand as Mr. Potter said a few spells, each of which left Peter feeling better. "Move it around a bit and see how it feels," Mr. Potter ordered. Peter obeyed, moving his arm in a large circle.

He nodded at Mr. Potter. "Feels fine."

"No pain?" Mr. Potter asked.

Peter shook his head.

"Let me do one more diagnostic spell just to be sure." A moment later, he pronounced that Peter had a clean bill of health. He put a hand on Peter's back. "Let's go inside." He began pushing Peter toward the door.

"I don't think they meant for anyone to get hurt, Harry," Mrs. Potter said as they walked.

"Doesn't matter," Mr. Potter replied. "Whether they meant it or not, someone did get hurt."

Sirius managed to cry his way out of trouble as he always did, even after Peter informed the Potter's that he was faking.

"No, he isn't!" James insisted. Peter wanted to argue, but Mr. Potter stopped him mid-sentence.

"He's clearly not faking, Peter," Mr. Potter said firmly.

In the end, Sirius and Peter were both ordered to stay off their broomsticks for the rest of the day, which Peter thought was highly unfair seeing as he was the one who got hurt. Mr. and Mrs. Potter seemed to think that his pushing Sirius was just as bad as Sirius' pushing him back, maybe even worse since he was the one who pushed first, even though Sirius hadn't been hurt in the slightest. And then Sirius got to cry on Mrs. Potter's shoulder; no one offered Peter a shoulder to cry on. Of course, he wasn't crying, but if he were, he was sure no one would offer him their shoulder. Sometimes he couldn't believe how gullible everyone was where Sirius was concerned. Even James and Remus, who had seen Sirius in action a hundred times, spent most of the afternoon trying to cheer him up. Only Peter seemed to believe that he should have been punished more.

"He feels bad about it, Peter," Remus told him. "He didn't mean to hurt you, and you did push him first."

Peter huffed angrily and pouted until after dinner when Mrs. Potter cheered them all up by giving dancing lessons in the parlor. When Peter's turn came, James and Sirius began dancing together so exuberantly that Mrs. Potter couldn't continue for fear of being walloped. She collapsed onto the sofa laughing at their antics as Sirius began turning cartwheels. James attempted one as well and ended up crashing into the wall.

Just after the countdown to the new year, Mr. and Mrs. Potter supervised as the Marauders set off all their fireworks. When the show was over, James' parents went to bed, warning the Marauders to behave themselves. "And enjoy the sunrise," Mr. Potter said with a wink. The second they were gone, James suggested they bring in the new year right - with champagne.

"No, we'll get caught," Remus said. "We'll get into trouble."

"We won't get caught. They're sleeping," James argued, but Sirius put his foot down.

"I've been shouted at enough for one day," he said.

"But it's after midnight. It's a new day," James persisted.

Sirius shook his head. "Although, that is a good point you make. Your dad said Peter and I weren't allowed on our broomsticks for the rest of the day. But now that it's a new day..."

"And a new year," Remus added.

James' eyes lit up. "Night quidditch?" he asked. After Peter and Sirius lost their broomsticks, James had put his away in solidarity with them, but now Peter could almost see him itching to get back on it. He never seemed to be more at peace than when he was flying.

Sirius nodded.

"I don't want to play quidditch anymore," Peter said glumly. He looked accusingly at Sirius. "Last time you shouted at me, and somehow I ended up in trouble."

"You're still going on about that?" James asked. "That was hours ago. You've got to learn to let things go. Please play with us. The teams will be uneven if you don't. We'll put you on my team this time. Please?"

"Yeah, please?" Sirius added.

Remus nodded at him, smiling. "It'll be fun," he promised. "No one will shout at you. Right James and Sirius?"

"Right," James and Sirius agreed.

"I promise," Sirius added.

"Oh, all right," Peter agreed reluctantly. But when they got outside, he found that he had much more fun playing with James than he had with Sirius. As promised, James didn't shout, except for once when even Peter admitted he should have got that save, and James was much better than Sirius at keeping the quaffle away from the goal, so Peter could mostly hover on his broomstick and watch. He couldn't help but notice, however, that Sirius never shouted at Remus when he missed a goal, even when it was James' right hook. They played until nearly dawn, then they sat on the veranda and watched the sun come up. Soon after that, Mrs. Potter came out and brought them all cocoa.

"How long have you been out here?" she asked, seating herself next to James on the swing.

"Not long," Sirius answered.

"Oh, so that wasn't you four I saw playing quidditch at three?" she asked, barely suppressing a smile. Beside Remus, Sirius sucked in his breath. "I'm not upset," she assured them.

"Are you going to tell Dad?" James asked.

"He already knows," Mr. Potter's voice came from just inside the doorway.

James launched into a long explanation about the loophole they had found and exploited. Mr. Potter listened with an impassive look on his face.

"I suppose," he said after a very long pause. "That I can let it slide just this once. After all, I'd hate to start the new year off on a bad footing."

James smiled. "Thanks, Dad," he said, jumping up to give his father a hug.

"Don't make a habit of it," Mr. Potter replied, taking James' seat next to Mrs. Potter on the swing.

"We won't," the Marauders assured him.

"So, who won?" Mrs. Potter asked, sipping her coffee as Mr. Potter put an arm around her.

"James, of course," Sirius said casually. "James always wins at quidditch."

James nodded confidently as he found a new seat next to Sirius, who gave him a high five. "I'm amazing," he informed his parents.

"And humble," Mr. Potter replied with a small smile.

"Not about quidditch," James retorted. "People as amazing as me don't have to be humble."

Mr. Potter laughed. "You are quite talented. And if getting into trouble were a sport, you'd be MVP every year. Do you boys get into this much trouble at school?" he asked casually.

"James and Sirius do," Peter replied. "They've been caned twice." There. That would teach Sirius to push him and James to tattle on him, even if he really had pushed Sirius first.

"Twice?" Mrs. Potter asked, her lips turning down into a deep frown.

"Peter!" James complained. "Shut up! How would you like it if I went and told your parents every time you got the cane?"

"I've never had the cane," Peter retorted. Besides, his parents probably wouldn't have cared.

"Only because Sirius lied for you," James argued.

It was true. Sirius had done that. When Slughorn caught them stealing potions ingredients from his private stores with the intention of convincing Snivellus to drink a potion that would give him a few days of particularly odoriferous gas just before the weekend began, Sirius' slick lies had been the only thing that saved Peter and Remus, who were serving as the look-outs, from getting caned right alongside James and Sirius. Sirius tried to save James from trouble as well, but the two of them had been caught red-handed, and so they were sent to face McGonagall who was less than thrilled with their plot. Guilt exploded in Peter's gut as he remembered that little detail. It was odd how easily Sirius could punch his buttons, and how quickly he could forget all the nice things Sirius did for him whenever that happened.

"That's enough, boys," Mr. Potter warned. James sniffed.

Mrs. Potter put down her coffee and held an arm out to her son. "Come here, Jamie."

James rose and went, hanging his head. When he arrived Mrs. Potter pulled him into her lap, hugging him tightly. "I don't like to think of anyone hurting you," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Mr. Potter reached over and mussed his hair. "What are we going to do with you?"

James shrugged.

"So, what was it this time? In the forest again?"

James shook his head and began to explain. Mr. Potter's frown grew as he did.

"I want you to leave this Snape boy alone, do you hear me?" he said sternly when James had finished. He turned toward the others. "And that goes for all of you. I never could abide a bully. You four are very popular up there, and it sounds to me like he hasn't got many friends. The last thing he needs is to have the popular crowd picking on him. Understand?" Peter looked at the ground so that Mr. Potter wouldn't see him smiling. He was part of the popular crowd!

The Marauders nodded their understanding. When he was sure he could hide his smile, Peter looked up, watching as Mrs. Potter held James tightly. He had buried his face in her shoulder. Even when they were cross with him, his parents lavished him with attention and affection. Peter burned with envy as Mr. Potter put a comforting hand on James' back, rubbing it gently.

"We thought it would be funny," James whispered into his mother's neck.

"Would you think it were funny if someone did it to you?" Mrs. Potter asked pointedly. James shook his head.

"All right," Mr. Potter relented. "It's over with now, and you've already been punished, so I see no reason to go on about it."

James nodded and, after a moment, squirmed off his mother's lap and into the space between his parents. His father put an arm around him as he sipped his coffee. "Are you boys all quidditched out?" he asked. The Marauders nodded together.

"Are you ready for breakfast?" Mrs. Potter asked. The Marauders nodded again. Breakfast sounded heavenly to Peter. Mrs. Potter rose. "Then let's go and see what we can find, shall we? I know I've got eggs and bangers, and I'll make up some crumpets. Sound good?"

"Can I help?" James asked.

"Me, too?" Sirius queried hopefully.

"I think I can find jobs for everyone," Mrs. Potter said with a smile. Peter scowled. He wasn't interested in helping with breakfast until Mrs. Potter looked straight at him. "Thank you all for being so helpful." For a moment, she looked at him the way his own mother had looked at him over the holiday. It made him feel warm inside. "I bet you're brilliant at scrambling eggs," she said.

Peter smiled back at her, nodding, even though he'd never scrambled an egg in his life. He wasn't sure what had changed, but he suddenly felt more than happy to carry out whatever task she assigned.


	20. Remus: 3 January, 1972

Remus: 3 January, 1972

Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter stepped off the Hogwarts express and clambered into the horseless carriages that would take them up to the castle. They were glad not to have to go across the lake again. The weather had been clear and cold in London, but in Hogsmeade, the wind howled and snow flew sideways beside the Hogwarts Express. Just watching it made Remus shiver.

"I wish we could have one more day," James said as the carriage took off on its trek toward the school.

"Yes, but at least we get a feast," Sirius replied. Remus couldn't help but agree. Mrs. Potter had packed about a twenty sandwiches for them to eat on the train, as well as an entire tin of biscuits apiece, but there was something about travel that always made Remus hungry. Even full of sandwiches and sweets, he still felt he could have eaten a horse.

The moment the carriage stopped, they stormed out of it, running up the stairs to the shelter and warmth of the Entrance Hall. On the stairs, they found themselves being jostled from all directions as other students tried to do the same. By the time they made it inside, Remus was so cold his teeth were chattering. He looked around and saw that his friends weren't much better. Peter's lips were turning blue.

"Welcome back!" Dumbledore greeted them cheerfully after they had all filed into the Great Hall. "I hope you all had a very happy Christmas and are looking forward to a new term here at Hogwarts. And now, without further ado, let's eat!"

"That's what I like about him," James said, his mouth already full of rib roast. "He doesn't drag everything out."

Remus filled his mouth with mashed potatoes to hide his smile. He happened to know that Dumbledore was quite capable of rambling on when the mood struck him.

Just then there was a commotion near the door.

"No, Sev! I don't want to go in!"

"Come on, Lily, you have to eat. No one will laugh at you. You look fine."

All eyes were on Lily and Severus when they walked into the Great Hall. Lily held her hands against her hair protectively. Remus saw that it had been shorn only a little more than an inch from her head.

"What happened to her?" James asked.

"How are we supposed to know?" Sirius asked. James shrugged. Lily sat down at the edge of the table, a little distance away from the other Gryffindors.

"Come on, gentlemen," James announced, sounding so much like his father than Remus smiled. He picked up his plate and went to sit across from Lily. The Marauders followed at a clipped pace.

"If you've come to take the mickey, you can just save it," she snapped. "I'm well aware that I look like an idiot."

"You look beautiful," James told her.

"I told you to leave me alone," she ordered. "I'm not in the mood for any of your jokes tonight."

"I'm not joking," James replied. "I never joke about beautiful women, and you are the most beautiful woman there is. Why do you always think I'm going to make fun of you?"

"Because you make fun of everyone," she replied. "And you keep teasing me, saying I'm the most beautiful woman, and that when I come in the room it's like the sun coming up. I'm not stupid, you know. I can tell you don't mean all that."

"But I do!" James told her. "I really do, Lily . I think you're the prettiest girl in school."

Lily frowned at him, her green eyes bright. "Just leave me alone," she muttered.

"But I don't want to leave you alone. Especially not when you're sad."

"What happened to your hair anyway?" Peter asked.

Remus sighed as Lily turned to glance at him. Peter had no tact.

"My sister put gum in it," she whispered, her eyes glistening. "And my mother had to cut it." Her eyes filled with tears. She swiped at them with the back of her hand. "It's silly to cry over hair, isn't it?" she asked.

James reached out and took her hand. "No, it isn't silly at all. Only I wish you wouldn't cry. It makes me sad to see you cry."

She smiled a little through her tears.

"It'll grow back," James offered encouragingly. "And in the meantime, you're still the prettiest girl in the whole country."

She jerked her hand out of his. "You're making fun of me again," she accused.

"No, I'm not!" James answered. "What do I have to do to show you that I'm not? I really like you, Lily. Honestly. I - I know you don't like me back, but can't you at least give me a chance? Be my friend, or something?"

Lily's eyes seemed to bore through him. Remus had the sudden feeling that something very important was happening. He held his breath waiting for her response.

"Will you leave Sev alone?" she asked.

"Huh?" James asked, curling his lip in confusion.

"I'll be your friend, but you have to leave Sev alone. You're really awful to him, you know."

"We're not nearly awful to him as he is to us. I don't even understand why you're friends with him."

Lily fixed James with a withering glare. He cringed beneath it. "He's never done a thing to you, and all you ever do is pick on him." She grew so angry she began to stutter, trying to find words terrible enough to call James. "You big bully!" she finally cried before picking up her plate and stomping away to join a few of her dorm mates, a group of girls that Sirius and James had affectionately dubbed, "the blondes". Sirius had already gone on dates with two of them.

"Girls are mental," James muttered, stabbing angrily at his roast.

Remus only shrugged. He wondered how long it was going to take James to figure out that Lily was never going to go out with him so long as he insisted on insulting Severus Snape. Remus, for his part, had nothing against Snape, per se. He had heard the story of how he insulted James and Sirius on the train the very first day, but he leaned toward the belief that Sirius, and particularly James, were too hard on him. He suspected Lily had something to do with it. James was so envious of Snape he was practically turning green.

"Sirius, do you think you could get the Slytherin password again?" James asked.

"Piece of cake," Sirius replied breezily. "I'll have it by the end of the night."

"Good, because we're going down there tonight."

"James, I really don't think..." Remus began.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," James cut him off. "I can handle Snivelly on my own."

"What did you have in mind?" Sirius asked.

"I haven't decided yet. Maybe we could stuff his head inside a turkey's arse. At least that would be an improvement over having it up his own arse."

"Too much chance of suffocation, I think," Sirius replied matter-of-factly. "If McGonagall's willing to whack us just for trying to give him gas, I'd hate to think what she'd do to us if we killed him. We could always flood the place. We wouldn't even need the password for that. All we need to do is figure out which loo is over their common room and put a regurgitating charm on all the toilets. And maybe figure out how to control the flow of the water to make sure it floods the right dungeon, but that shouldn't be too hard. Of course, putting a regurgitating charm on all the Slytherin toilets would probably be more fun."

"Why can't we do both?" James asked with a smile.

"Both it is!" Sirius agreed. He turned to Remus and Peter. "Are you in?"

Peter agreed without a moment's hesitation. All three of them looked expectantly at Remus. He wasn't so sure it was such a good idea. He certainly didn't want to get into trouble. The one detention he had received for fighting last term had been plenty enough for him. But he didn't want to be left out, either.

"Come on, Remus. We won't let you get in trouble," James told him. "You'll be the lookout again, and we'll give you the cloak. If we get caught, you can hide."

"Okay," Remus reluctantly agreed. "I'll help."

After dinner was over, the Marauders took James' cloak and went searching for the loo that was most likely to flood the Slytherin common room. After they had found it, they went down to the wait for someone to come by and give the new Slythern password. It turned out to be "parselmouth". Thus armed, the Marauders went upstairs to bide their time.

At half past midnight, Remus felt himself being shaken awake. He opened his eyes to find James standing over him. "Are you ready?" he asked. Remus nodded and rose. He had gone to bed in his robes; they all had, so he had only to wrestle on his trainers while James woke Peter. Peter was always difficult to wake. James very nearly had to push him onto the floor before he would rise, but eventually he sat up and began pulling on his trainers, grumbling and rubbing his eyes.

"Where's Sirius?" Remus whispered as James handed him the invisibility cloak and he tucked it under his robes.

"I don't know. When I woke up his bed was empty. He's probably in the common room. He doesn't seem to sleep much. I think that's how he's getting all his homework done so fast. Aren't you ready yet, Peter?"

Peter stood, wobbled, and sat back down on the bed. The second time, he was more successful.

"Did you forget how to walk?" James teased in an undertone.

Peter scowled. "No, I'm tired. You and Sirius have hardly let me get any sleep in three days."

"Well, if you'd rather sleep than help us, feel free to go lie back down."

"Fine, I will!" Peter retorted.

"Don't worry about him," Remus whispered to Peter softly enough that James wouldn't hear. "He's just upset about Lily."

"You'd think he'd have figured out by now that she's never going to go out with him," Peter huffed. Remus shrugged. He never would have said it, but he was inclined to agree with Peter's assessment of the situation. Still, he knew James was not the sort of bloke to give up easily.

James stuck his head into the room. "Are you coming?" he asked. Peter threw a shoe at him, and he caught it easily. He threw it back, smacking Peter in the chest.

"Don't start something you can't finish," James warned. "Come on, Remus."

Remus followed him down the stairs. James stopped short at the bottom, and Remus nearly crashed into him. Sirius and Lily were sitting together on the sofa, their backs to the staircase, both laughing as Sirius taught Lily a spell could make glowing dirty words appear in the air. They were sitting so close together their shoulders were touching.

"You're so funny," Lily was saying. She wove her elbow through Sirius.'

"What are you doing?" James asked as the word "poo" faded from the space over their heads.

"Oh, James, hi!" Sirius said, untangling his arm from Lily's and leaping to his feet.

Lily turned to look at James, her smile fading.

"What are you doing?" James repeated.

"I couldn't sleep," Sirius explained. "So I came down here, and then Lily came. She couldn't sleep, either. I was teaching her to play chess, but we got bored and started playing with spells. She knows lots. Severus taught her this one. Watch." He waved his wand and said, "Mosala". The dirty words began writing themselves in the air once more.

"You were holding her hand," James accused. He narrowed his eyes at them. Sirius took a step away from Lily.

"James, we were only playing chess," Sirius explained. Remus thought he looked a touch guilty, but it may have been only nerves. Remus could tell that Sirius thought quite a lot of James - probably more than he thought of just about anyone else, except perhaps his brother. Or James' parents, who he seemed to have attached himself to over the holidays.

James stepped around the sofa, never taking his eyes off of Sirius. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest. "That's not what it looked like to me."

"James, let's just go," Remus began, hoping to diffuse the situation. As far as he knew, James and Sirius had never before had a row. As stubborn as they both were, Remus worried that any row between them wouldn't end until they had burned down the castle or one of them had lost the ability to move.

"You stay out of it!" James shouted. He turned back to Sirius.

"Don't shout at Remus!" Lily ordered.

"He's my friend. I'll shout at him if I want to!" James shouted.

"Don't shout at Lily!" Sirius snapped. "She's not the one you're mad at."

Remus could immediately tell that Sirius had made a very grave tactical error. James quivered with rage for a moment before he uncrossed his arms and pushed Sirius to the floor. Remus took a step backward for good measure. He had no desire to be drawn into another fight.

"Oi!" Sirius called from his new perch on the ground. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You are my problem!" James yelled. "You can't go out with Lily!"

"Excuse me?" Lily asked. "He can go out with whoever he wants to! You are not his boss, James Potter, and you're not mine, either. And I will never go out with you. The thought of kissing someone as foul as you makes me sick!"

"Oh, yeah?" he asked. "Well, the thought of kissing someone as stuck up as you makes me want to puke! And your hair doesn't look good at all. It makes you look like a boy!"

Lily's eyes filled with tears. The effect on James was immediate.

"Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he said swiftly, his entire countenance softening, but the damage was done. "Lily, please. I'm sorry," he said, reaching a hand out to her. She jerked away from him and ran up the stairs just as her sobs broke. James ran after her, calling her name pleadingly. Remus reckoned he would have followed her all the way to her room if the staircase hadn't fallen out from under him, forming a smooth slide that deposited a very distraught James in a heap on the common room floor. He immediately began trying to climb up the slide, but it was no use; it was far too slippery for climbing.

He swore loudly after his third attempt to climb it failed. Remus went to him and helped him to his feet. He looked as though he were fighting tears. He looked at Remus almost desperately. "She's going to hate me now," he moaned. Remus wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing, seating himself next to James as he flung himself onto sofa and threw his face into his hands. "This couldn't possibly be any worse."

"Sure it could," Sirius said, reclining on the sofa across from James. "You could have been the one who put the gum in her hair."

James lifted his head to glare at Sirius. "I don't want to talk to you," he said harshly.

"You know, you really should learn to control your temper," Sirius said casually, leaning back with both hands behind his head. He didn't seem the slightest bit fussed over having been pushed only a few minutes before. Remus wondered briefly why he never seemed to forgive Peter so quickly.

James looked at Sirius with so much pain in his eyes it made Remus want to cry. "You can have any girl in the entire school," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "Why do you have to go after her?"

"I wasn't going after her," Sirius replied. "If you had given me a moment to explain, I would have told you that the only reason she was holding my hand is because I was planning to teach her how to dance and then tell her what a good dancer you are. I would never go after her, James. I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, I like the blondes. I've made it a personal goal to snog all five of them before Easter."

James' lower lip trembled for a moment before he bit it, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He took a few deep breaths and opened his eyes again, nodding resolutely.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"No worries," Sirius answered with a shrug. "But if you ever push me again, I'll put your lights out."

James let out a small laugh. "I'd like to see you try it."

Sirius stood and pretended to spit in both fists before lifting them in front of his face. "You want some of this, Potter?" he asked, his silvery eyes twinkling.

"Oh, sit down already," James told him. He grabbed a handful of Sirius' robes and pulled him onto the sofa. Sirius landed hard, bouncing Remus and James.

"How do I get her to forgive me?" James asked once Sirius had settled.

"I don't know. If it was me, I'd show her my puppy dog eyes." He demonstrated for James and Remus, shooting them a look that would have melted the hardest of hearts.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" James asked.

"I can try. Make your eyes really wide. Not that wide. Too wide and it makes you look like some sort of crazed serial killer. You want to say, 'I'm so adorable. Don't you want to hug me?' not 'Get too close, and I'll brain you.'"

"She's going to hate me forever, isn't she?" James asked glumly.

"I'm sure she won't hate you forever," Remus said. "Just keep being yourself, and you're sure to win her over eventually. Honestly, James, everyone likes you. You're practically the most popular person in the whole school."

"Yeah?" James asked.

"No doubt," Remus informed him.

Sirius agreed. "She'll come around. She'll probably even forgive you for saying what you said about her hair."

James groaned. "I really didn't mean to say that. I like her hair. I was just angry."

"I know," Sirius said. "And she probably knows that, too. But you really should learn to control your temper."

James nodded, frowning. "My dad always says the same thing."

Neither Sirius nor Remus responded to that. Remus thought it wouldn't be terribly wise to tell James that his father was probably right. Remus never liked hearing that his parents were right after they'd had an argument.

"You still want to flood the Slytherins?" Sirius asked after a moment of silence.

"Not really. I'm not in the mood."

"Not in the mood to prank the Slytherins?" Remus asked. He made a show of feeling James' forehead. "You're not ill, are you?"

"No," James replied, pulling away from Remus. "I just don't want to right now. Maybe tomorrow."

"Oh, come on," Sirius told him. "It'll make you feel better. There's nothing better for a bad day than overflowing a few toilets."

James shook his head.

"I'll give you back a few of your chocolate frog cards," Sirius offered, his tone tantalizing.

James perked up a little, then he wilted again. "No, I lost the bet. They're yours now."

"Yes, and it's my choice if I want to give them back. Come on, please?"

"Okay, fine," James agreed. "And you don't even have to give me the chocolate frog cards."

"But I want to. I didn't really feel right about taking them from you, anyway."

"Yeah, okay," James said. He pushed a finger in Sirius' face. "But you better not be doing this because you feel sorry for me or something!"

Sirius shook his head. "It would take a lot more than than you striking out with a girl to make me feel sorry for you," he said.

"But she's not just any girl," James said, his eyes taking on the dreamy look they always did when he discussed Lily. "I'm..."

"Going to marry her," Remus and Sirius finished with him.

"So we've heard," Sirius said. "Now get up off your lovesick arse and come help me clog some toilets!" Sirius stood and offered James a hand. When James took it, Sirius yanked him to his feet so quickly he yelped with surprise. Then he offered a hand to Remus.

"No, thank you. I'd like to keep my arm in the socket," Remus said, pushing himself up.

"You still have my cloak?" James asked.

Remus nodded and patted the lump at his chest. "Got it right here."

"Good," James said with an emphatic nod. "Then let's roll."

As they exited the portrait hole, Remus turned back toward the room to be sure no one was watching them. He startled when he saw Peter peeking around the staircase. "Peter!" Remus called. "Have you changed your mind? Do you want to come?"

Peter shook his head. "And you shouldn't go, either. You're going to end up in trouble."

"I'll be under the cloak. Come on. You can stay under the cloak, too."

Peter shook his head. "No, I don't want to," he said, frowning.

"Please?" Remus asked, doing his best imitation of Sirius' puppy dog eyes.

Peter laughed. "What are you doing?"

"I was trying to look hopeful," Remus explained.

"You look like you have to poo."

"Well, I do a little, but there's no time."

"Come on, Remus!" James called through the portrait hole.

"See?" Remus asked.

"Not the most patient chap, is he?" Peter commented.

"Not even a little bit," Remus agreed. "So, are you coming?"

"Yeah, sure, all right. I'll come," Peter relented. He stood beside Remus, and Remus threw the cloak over them both. He had spent plenty of time under the cloak by now, but he still wasn't used to the slightly dizzy feeling of not being able to see one's self.

"Peter's here," Remus informed Sirius and James when they climbed out of the portrait hole.

"Brilliant!" Sirius exclaimed. "You can help keep watch. Remus, you can stand at the end of the hallway, and Peter, you can guard the door. James and I will set the charms."

"Why do you always set the charms?" Peter asked. "Why can't Remus or I set the charms?"

"Because this way, if we get caught, James and I can claim we did it alone, and you two won't get into trouble."

Peter apparently couldn't argue with that.

The next morning, the Marauders came down to breakfast to discover that the Slytherins had had to spend the back half of the night in sleeping bags in the Great Hall and would have to continue doing so until the staff managed to fix the broken toilets and mop out the dungeons. The Potions classroom had been flooded as well, as had Filch's office.

"I'm sorry for Slughorn, but other than that, I'd say it was a good night's work," Sirius said happily. Remus couldn't help but agree.

Sirius' eyes went suddenly wide. "Oh no. McGonagall approaching at two o'clock. Everybody act casual."

Remus ducked his head and quickly filled his mouth with toast.

"I said to act casual, Peter. You look like you're trying to die!" Sirius snapped. Remus looked at Peter. He had affected a grimace that was clearly meant to be an innocent smile.

"You four wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" McGonagall asked.

"About what?" Sirius asked innocently.

McGonagall raised one eyebrow at him. "Surely you've heard by now, Black, that the Slytherins have been flooded out of their common room."

"That's awful!" Sirius cried. "What happened?"

McGonagall pursed her lips. Remus sneaked a glance at his friends. Only Sirius showed no strain. James had buried his head in his plate and was shoveling eggs into his mouth at such a furious pace that Remus feared they'd begin coming out of his ears in a few more seconds. Peter was wincing, looking as though he'd crack at any moment.

"We only just heard about it when we came in this morning," Remus told her, forcing himself to look into her face. "We were in the common room all night. James and Sirius had a row, and then James and Lily had a row. That's how the stairs to the girl's dormitory got broken. She ran away, and he tried to follow her."

McGonagall turned on James. "Is that why you're trying to choke yourself? You were worried about breaking the stairs?" she asked.

James nodded. "I didn't know I wasn't allowed to go into the girls' dormitory. Girls are allowed to come into ours."

"It's an outdated rule, I must admit. The founders thought girls were more trustworthy than boys, and that they needed more protection." The way she rolled her eyes communicated clearly that she thought the concept ludicrous.

"We're really sorry," Remus added. "We didn't mean anything by it. James was only trying to talk to her."

McGonagall patted James on the shoulder. "It's quite all right. You didn't know. We got them fixed up just fine this morning anyway. If you do happen to hear anything about the Slytherin common room, be sure to let me know. I know you four have your ear to the ground."

"We will," Sirius assured her, and she left to question a few of the other more prominent troublemakers in the school.

"Remus, that was bloody amazing!" James enthused when she had gone. "I thought we were for it for sure!"

"I never knew you could lie like that!" Sirius stated approvingly.

"Technically, I didn't lie," Remus corrected. "We did only _hear _about it when we came in this morning, and we were in the common room all night, except for the hour when we weren't, and there was a lot of rowing and breaking of staircases going on. Only I left a few parts out is all. It's different."

Sirius grinned at him. "You're devious," he said. "I like it."


	21. James: 4 January, 1972

James: 4 January, 1972

"Peter, shut up!" James hissed.

"We're going to get caught!" Peter whispered.

"Not if you shut up!" Sirius whispered back. "Just keep an eye out for teachers!" Sirius turned back to the shelves that had been stocked with the potions and potion ingredients that Slughorn had manages to rescue from his flooded storeroom.

"It's not anywhere. They can't all have been lost, can they?" James asked.

"I don't know. They probably weren't his first priority," Sirius replied.

"Do you reckon we could go downstairs and try to find something?"

"The water's over our heads. If it's not here, I think we're out of luck."

"Would you two hurry up?" Peter whispered frantically. "Not having the cloak is making me nervous. Oh no! Someone's coming."

The three of them froze to listen. Sure enough, the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps echoed across the stone floor. They flattened themselves against the wall, hiding in shadows, and hoped whoever it was had no intention of coming into the makeshift storeroom.

The footsteps came straight for them, though they could see no one.

"Slughorn's on his way," Remus' voice informed them. His head appeared very suddenly. "Come on, get under."

Peter and Sirius scrambled under the cloak. "I found them!" James proclaimed.

"Get it later," Sirius told him. "We have to hide." They could hear Slughorn coming. He was humming.

Throwing caution to the wind, James darted across the room to wrap his hands around the tiny vial for which they had been searching and rushed to join his friends just as Slughorn appeared in the room. They retreated as one to a corner, holding their collective breath as Slughorn looked around, his eyes narrowing.

"I know you're in here," he said. "I'm quite sure I didn't leave the light on."

"Damn," Peter whispered. Sirius clamped a hand over his mouth. Peter began to struggle to get away. James stamped down hard on his foot, hoping to get him to shut up, and he yelled. Then he bit Sirius' hand and Sirius yelled. Then he tried to stamp on James' foot back but missed and caught Remus instead and Remus yelled. Slughorn found them with minimal effort. By then, they were struggling so much that the cloak hardly covered them. Slughorn reached toward them to take it just as Sirius got Peter in a headlock and wrestled him to the ground, knocking over a shelf full of potion vials in the process.

"Boys!" Slughorn bellowed. They stopped immediately. It was the only time they had ever heard Slughorn bellow. He usually maintained his good humor, particularly with Sirius, James, and Remus, all prized members of the Slug Club. Of the Marauders, only Peter had not been invited, something he continued to take personally no matter how many times the others told him he wasn't missing much.

"I am very surprised at you four. What do you think you're doing in here? Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" he scolded.

"Yes, sir," Sirius said, pulling himself to his feet. He inspected his bleeding hand.

"What happened?" Slughorn asked, holding out a hand. "Did you cut yourself on the glass?"

"Must have," Sirius replied, holding his hand out to Slughorn and throwing a dirty look at Peter.

"This looks like a bite," Slughorn said. He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it. "A human bite. Who bit you?"

"I don't know," Sirius said with a shrug. "It must have been while we were arguing. It was probably an accident, whoever did it."

Slughorn fixed him with a look that dripped skepticism. "No one bites someone else by accident. Stay there. I'll get an antiseptic."

James was tempted to tell that it had been Peter. After all, it was his fault they were caught. Again. But he decided that was Sirius' decision to make. James hated to see his friends get into trouble, but Sirius hated it even more. He would go to great lengths to get them out of it, although James doubted very much that he would would be able to get them let off tonight. They were caught red-handed, after all. And it was a second offense, no less. He cringed a little, sure that McGonagall's cane was going to be a part of their very near future.

"Whose cloak is this?" Slughorn asked after he had tended to Sirius' wound.

"Mine," James admitted.

Slughorn examined it. "This is the nicest invisibility cloak I've ever seen."

"It's been in my family for generations. My father gave it to me, and my grandfather gave it to him."

"I see. I'll just send it back to your father, then."

"No!" James protested. "It's mine."

"If your father sees fit to give it back to you, that can be his business," Slughorn decreed. "But as far as I can see, you clearly can't be trusted with it."

"I can!" James insisted. The thought of losing the cloak made his stomach feel sort of gooey. The thought of having to admit to his father that he'd lost it made it feel even gooier. He thought he'd rather have faced the cane.

"Obviously not," Slughorn corrected. "Seeing as this is the second time I've caught you stealing from my storeroom. What was it this time, eh?"

The Marauders looked at one another. Sirius was clearly preparing to turn on the waterworks. Remus looked as though he were as well, although, in his case, they would not be crocodile tears. He had cried the one time he received detention. James couldn't understand it. Detention was barely anything to blink an eye at, much less cry over. Remus didn't seem to have worked out yet that they were most likely going to be caned. James was afraid he'd be hysterical when he did.

"We were looking for hair regrowing potion," Peter admitted.

Sirius spun on him. "Would you shut up? It's bad enough you got us caught!"

"I got you caught?" Peter asked, indignant. "You're the one who attacked me!"

"Because you were talking!" Sirius snapped.

"Boys!" Slughorn said, clapping his hands loudly. "None of that! I'd have found you in another moment anyway. I already knew someone was in here."

Sirius mumbled something that no one could quite make out.

"Care to repeat that a little louder?" Slughorn asked.

"No, sir," Sirius replied glumly. He and James glanced at one another. Sirius pursed his lips. There was fear behind his eyes. James looked away quickly, wishing he knew what to say to get them off. He hated to see his friend afraid - even more so now that he knew the reason behind his anxiety.

"So why did you want the hair regrowing potion?" Slughorn asked. "Planning to make poor Snape resemble a yak this time?"

"No," James explained. "It's for Lily Evans."

"Evans? What's she done to you, then?"

"Nothing! She had to cut her hair because her sister put gum in it, and she's really sad, so we thought if we could get her a hair regrowing potion, it would grow back, and she wouldn't be sad anymore." It had been James who thought of that, sure that Lily would forgive him if he could return her hair to its previous sunset-colored glory.

"I see," Slughorn said, his stern look fading. "And it never occurred to you to just ask me for the potion?"

James hung his head. That hadn't occurred to him. Judging by the others' reactions, it hadn't occurred to them, either.

"I'd have given it to you, had you asked. I ought to take you straight to McGonagall. I very disappointed in you: stealing from my stores again. Stealing is a very serious crime, even if it was to help a friend."

James bit back his own feelings of fear. Any moment now, Slughorn would pronounce their sentence. He had no desire to be caned again. It bloody well hurt.

"But I think that's unnecessary," Slughorn continued.

James brightened at his words. "Thank you!" he breathed.

"I'm not letting you off completely, mind you. You four have detention for as long as it takes you to get this entire mess cleaned up." He gestured to the broken glass and spilled potions on the floor. It looked like a very big job. James almost thought he would have rather had the cane. At least it was over quickly. Beside him, Remus sniffled, and James quickly changed his mind. He decided then and there that he would do whatever he had to do to keep Remus from ever being caned.

Slughorn walked gingerly across the mess to where James had found the hair regrowing potions. He didn't seem to notice that one was missing. "Here," he said, handing another vial of it to James. "It's the one you two brewed."

"Well, we sort of already got one," James told him, producing the vial from his robes.

"I see," Slughorn intoned with a terse nod.

"We should probably be going then," James said. He thought it wise to exit quickly, before Slughorn could change his mind about taking them to McGonagall.

"You're to go straight to your dormitory," Slughorn warned. "And if I even suspect you haven't, or that you've gone wandering again after you arrive there, I'll let McGonagall have you."

"Yes, sir," Sirius answered. The Marauders made a quick exit, never slowing their pace until they stopped in their common room.

"I can't believe I lost the cloak," James moaned, throwing himself onto a convenient sofa.

"Your dad will probably send it back, though, right?" Peter asked.

"I don't know," James admitted. His dad had implied pretty strongly in his letter than he expected James to get into at least a little trouble with the cloak, but James wasn't sure how the old man would feel about it being confiscated, and he was sure his father wouldn't be happy about James being caught stealing again. James consoled himself with the hope that maybe Slughorn wouldn't share that part. "I should send them an owl first thing tomorrow. It'll be better if I can explain before he does."

"Have fun with that," Sirius said breezily. "I'm going to bed." He made his way up the stairs.

Now that James thought about it, he was a little sleepy. It had been several nights since he'd really had a full night's sleep, after all. He decided it wouldn't hurt anything to wait until morning.

When he woke the next morning, James had mostly forgotten about the cloak. Instead, he was thinking about Lily and how happy she would be when he gave her the potion. He went to the showers, yawning. Part of him wanted to fall back into bed and forget about all his classes. However, he suspected that wouldn't go over terribly well with his teachers. He was nearly finished bathing when it happened. He screamed as the icy cold water rained down on him, huddling to the corner to escape it. He heard laughter and stuck his head out of the shower to see Sirius standing there, an empty water bucket in his head.

"Swiped it from Filch's closet after you were sleeping last night," he said with a small smile, swinging the bucket around on his wrist.

"How did you get it so cold?" James asked. He was still shivering from the icy blast.

"It's a charm my mother taught me for keeping drinks cold." He tossed the bucket into the air. It spun once before landed perfectly in his outstretched hands. "Comes in handy."

"We have to do that to Peter," James said, his eyes growing wide with excitement.

"Not today, though. He's in a bit of a temper."

"Why?" James asked, pulling his head back into the shower to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. It was beginning to drip dangerously close to his eyes.

"He's already behind on his homework, and he doesn't think it's fair that he should have detention when I'm the one who knocked over the shelf."

"The way I remember it, he was the one who knocked it over."

"That's how I remember it as well, but you know Peter. Nothing's ever his fault." James heard the shower next to him start up. He wished he knew that charm already so he could exact a little payback.

"Why do we hang around him again?" James asked, turning off the water.

"Because he's our friend. And we like him," Sirius called over the spray of the shower.

"We do?" James rubbed his hair dry and wrapped the towel around his waist, stepping out into the room to discover Peter standing there, listening to their every word. As soon as he saw James, his eyes filled with tears and he fled from the room. "Damn!"

"What?" Sirius asked.

"Peter just overheard us."

"Damn," Sirius repeated. "Well, I don't think I said anything too bad."

"I did," James confessed. "I was joking, though. Well, mostly I was."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. He'll get over it. He likes being popular too much to stay mad at either one of us for long. Without us, he goes back to having no friends."

"Still, that doesn't give us the right to be mean to him," James reasoned, guilt beginning to flood him. He and Sirius did pick on Peter quite a lot, and Peter did try hard.

"Who was being mean to him?" Sirius asked, turning off the shower. "I said he's our friend and we like him."

"You also said he never thinks anything's his fault."

"That's not mean. It's true. He's always trying to blame other people."

"What did you two do to Peter?" Remus asked, charging into the bathroom.

"It's his own fault for eavesdropping," Sirius said casually, emerging from the shower stall fully clothed. James couldn't understand why he was always so modest. Sirius rubbed at his curls with his towel and James notice for the first time how long his hair had grown. It hung nearly to his shoulders.

"You're getting nearly ready for a haircut, I think," James commented.

"Nah," Sirius said, tousling the wet hair with his fingers. That was all he ever did, and it dried perfectly. James could comb his until his arm fell off, and his hair always stuck up at odd angles. "I like it like this. My mother never let me keep it long. She'll probably make me cut it as soon as I get home this summer." Sirius' face fell a little. "If she lets me come home this summer, that is," he added in an undertone.

"If she doesn't you'll come to Potter Manor. My mother said you could. Easter, too."

Sirius smiled. "Wicked. I really like it at your house, mate. It's fun there."

James shrugged. He hadn't really thought about it. His house was just his house; he didn't pay it much mind.

"Pardon me," Remus interrupted. "We were talking about Peter."

"What about him?" Sirius asked nonchalantly. James smiled a bit. He could already tell this was an argument Remus was going to lose. He wished he could ooze charm the way Sirius did.

"What did you say to him?" Remus demanded.

"We didn't say anything to him," Sirius explained. "He was eavesdropping, and he overheard something he wishes he hadn't. We were only joking anyway, which he'd know if he wasn't always looking for a way to play victim. Serves the little berk right if you ask me."

Remus opened his mouth a few times as though longing to say something, but thought better of it. James looked on in awe. Remus made a small noise of frustration in the back of his throat and stomped away, muttering.

"You're really brilliant, you know," James said conversationally as he stepped up to the sink to brush his teeth and comb his hair.

"Well, I wasn't keen on starting my day with a lecture. Remus is nice and all, but sometimes when he gets going he's worse than McGonagall." Sirius flashed a smile at the mirror, messed up James' hair, and left. James scowled only a little; there wasn't much difference in his hair combed and messed up. He shrugged and decided to let it be. Maybe he's even start mussing it on purpose. Yes, he decided. It gave him a certain windswept look, as though he'd just stepped off his broomstick. He mussed it a little more.

At breakfast, James ditched his friends and went to sit with Lily instead.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

"I've brought you something," James told her. He produced the hair regrowing potion from his robes.

"Hair regrowing potion?" she asked. "Why, because my hair's so hideous you can't stand to look at it?"

"No!" James answered. "Do you always think the worst of everyone, or is it just me? You know, you're always giving me hell over being mean to Snape, but you're no better. You're doing the exact same thing to me. You won't even give me a chance."

Lily's face hardened. Her eyes widened. She picked up her pumpkin juice and flung it in James' face. Across the Great Hall, Snape cheered. Lily stood and stormed out of the Hall. James sat still, the potion still clutched in his hand and pumpkin juice dripping onto his robes. The Marauders moved in.

"Smooth," Sirius said, handing James a napkin to wipe his face.

"What is with her?" James asked, a tremor of frustration in his voice.

Sirius shrugged. "She clearly only likes arseholes. Some girls are like that, you know. You're better off without her in my opinion. You could probably have just about any girl you wanted. You don't need to chase after the only one who doesn't want you."

"But she's the only one I want," James pouted.

"Here, give me the potion," Sirius said, holding out his hand.

"Why?"

"Just give it to me."

James handed it over. Sirius took it and stuck it in his own robes. In their first class, he charged up to Lily and sat beside her, presenting her with the potion. They whispered furiously for a moment, and when they had finished their conversation, Lily turned back to James and smiled a little. James smiled back. She fingered the potion vial as Sirius went back to James.

"What did you do?" James asked just as Binns began to drone. James found himself thankful for Binns' tendency to be oblivious to everything save the sound of his own voice. The fact that he and Sirius could ignore him safely and carry on their own conversations was the only thing that made History of Magic bearable.

"I merely pointed out that we went to a lot of trouble to get that potion for her because you didn't want her to be sad over her hair, and that she was being very ungrateful. And now, if you can manage to keep your foot out of your mouth for ten seconds, she'll probably come apologize to you." Sirius leaned his chair back on two legs, balancing perfectly. He did that often.

"How did you get her to listen?" James asked.

"It was easy. I just didn't insult her. You should try it sometime."

"I don't mean to insult her. She just takes everything the wrong way."

"That's because she doesn't like you," Peter hissed, leaning back in his chair in a perfect imitation of Sirius. James reached over and pushed him, knocking him off balance. He hit the floor hard, banging the back of his head on the stone. James felt only a little guilty as he watched Peter leap to his feet, trying to act brave but clearly fighting tears. The tendril of guilt disappeared completely when Peter tattled to Binns.

"I saw the whole thing. It was an accident," Sirius reported.

"Be careful, then, boys. Five points apiece for disrupting class. Now, as I was saying, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was signed into law in 1689, taking effect in 1692."

"Why do I always get in trouble whenever you act like an arse?" Peter spat.

"Karma," Sirius replied. "You don't tattle on your friends, Worm Guts. Now shut up. James and I were talking."

Peter whispered something under his breath.

"What was that?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," Peter muttered. James looked away from Peter to find Remus glaring at him. He shrugged and grinned. Remus did not grin back.

"If you don't know what to say, the best approach is to just look innocent," Sirius continued as though nothing had happened. "And smile."

After class, Lily approached James. "Sirius told me why you got the potion. I'm sorry for being so rude to you before. You're right. I never did really give you a chance. Only Snape's my friend, and it makes me angry the way you treat him. I know he's not always the nicest person, but he's my best mate, and his life's not very easy, you know."

James remembered Sirius' advice and said nothing about Snape. "Would you like to join the Marauders for lunch?" he asked, flashing her a winning smile.

"No, I think I'm going to sit with Gretchen and Lesley, but thanks for the potion. I'll probably use it tonight."

"You're welcome, and I really am sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. I think your hair's beautiful no matter what length it is."

"Thanks," Lily said softly. "We should probably be getting to Charms."

"May I walk with you?" James asked.

Lily nodded her permission.

"I'll take your books, if you like."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I've got them. I'm still going out with Neil, you know."

"Oh." James had forgotten about him.

"But I've been thinking of breaking up with him."

"Oh?" James asked, hoping he didn't sound too excited.

"All he really wants to do is snog, but he's not very good at him. Kind of slobbery. He gets my face all wet."

"Sirius says he only likes girls for their looks," James told her.

"What are you saying?" she asked, bristling.

"Nothing," James retreated quickly. "Sirius was the one who said it. I don't even know Neil."

"Well, he's very nice," she informed him.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. "Well, see you," she said when they arrived in the Charms classroom. She went to join the blondes. Lesley and Gretchen Owens were already giggling, looking at James as she sat.

"Gretchen fancies you," Sirius said casually, coming up behind James.

"How do you know that?"

"I pay attention. Maybe you should get her to chat you up to Lily."

"Wouldn't that be only using her?"

"Yes," Sirius said with a shrug.

"Isn't using people bad?" James asked.

"Yes, it is," Remus interrupted. "And while we're on the subject of bad, you should know that Peter just went to the hospital wing for his head."

"He's overreacting. He didn't hit it that hard," Sirius said dismissively.

"You know, one of these days, he's going to get fed up and punch you," Remus commented.

"I doubt it," Sirius said, sliding gracefully into his seat. "I think he learned his lesson at New Year's."

"You have been pretty hard on him lately," James said gently.

"Well, he's been pretty obnoxious lately," Sirius retorted.

"Weren't you the one who was just saying that he's our friend and we like him?" James asked.

Sirius suppressed a smile. "Using my words against me, eh? Fine. I'll ease up. But if he doesn't stop telling on us every time something happens he doesn't like, I'm going to start confunding him."

Remus nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "I think that's fair."


	22. Sirius: 13 January, 1972

Sirius: 13 January, 1972

The weather was the perfect mirror of his mood. It was so dark out he could barely see, but the wind howled through the leafless trees, and the snow spattered against the windows. The common room felt warm and cozy against such a backdrop, and he should have been glad. It was Thursday night, after all, and he had no classes on Friday. The entire weekend stretched before him, just begging to be wasted.

"Sirius, are you all right?" James asked, coming to join him at the window. Sirius nodded, looking at James' reflection in the pane rather than at James himself. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell his friend what was bothering him. He was afraid James would think he was weak, somehow, to be this worried over something so silly. Besides, James had had a one-track mind for most of the day. The Slytherin common room had been declared habitable just that morning, and James was already agitating to flood it again. He had decided they should just keep it flooded the entire term. Then they wouldn't have to go down into the dark, clammy dungeons - even darker and clammier for the cold snap outside the castle walls - for Potions. Sirius wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Eventually the professors were bound to catch on.

"My brother hasn't written to me since Christmas," Sirius confessed after a brief battle with himself. At first, he reckoned Regulus was just busy. Sirius himself had been busy enough to forget to write a few days over the holiday. Now that the term had started up again, he was writing diligently every day, but none of the letters had been answered.

"He's probably just busy," James suggested.

"Maybe," Sirius said with a shrug. "I've written to him every day for two weeks, though. He didn't miss a single day last term."

"It's probably nothing."

Sirius nodded, not believing that for a second. "Probably. Want to go see Remus?"

James agreed quickly. He never turned down an opportunity to wander around the castle. Not that he really needed an excuse. Curfew wasn't for another two hours, but Sirius suspected that after they had seen Remus, James would come up with some reason not to come back until curfew was long-since past. James was at his best when plotting.

They grabbed Peter and made their way to the hospital wing. Sirius was beginning to grow suspicious that Remus' illness was more serious than he was letting on. He was ill every three or four weeks, it seemed.

The Marauders passed the library just as Snape and some of his Slytherin friends were coming out. They walked in front of the Marauders and stopped.

"Move out of our way," James ordered.

"You move out of our way, Four Eyes," Snape retorted.

Sirius rolled his eyes. And Slytherins were supposed to be clever. "Good comeback, Snivellus. Never heard that one before."

Sirius rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his wand. If any dueling was about to happen, he wanted to be prepared. The Slytherins pulled out their wands in imitation. James and Peter pulled out their wands as well. Sirius glanced around. There were four Slytherins. He didn't like those odds. It was just like Snivellus to only choose to take a stand when he had the Marauders outnumbered.

"And where are you children off to?" a boy called Jacob Nott asked. He was a third year, and was clearly of the impression that that meant something, as though having been born two years earlier than Sirius was an accomplishment. He'd always been that had been way. Sirius had been forced to play with him on occasion when they were young, and Nott would always use his age as an excuse to boss Sirius around. Sirius had never had much patience for it, and the two usually just ended up fighting and sometimes breaking one another's things.

"None of your business," James said casually just as Peter answered, "the hospital wing."

"Ickle Remus feeling sick again?" a second year called Dolohov asked in an affected whine.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Is that the best you can do?" Sirius asked skeptically. "And here I thought Slytherins were supposed to be bright. Snivelly, I think you've found the only three Slytherins who are thicker than you." Sirius waited for the reaction he knew was coming; he didn't have to wait long. Snivellus couldn't stand it when anyone insulted his intelligence. It was the quickest way to infuriate him.

"Shut up, you arsehole!" Snape yelled. Sirius smiled at his success. Snape was so predictable it was almost too easy.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" James asked.

"No!"

"That's not surprising. She probably doesn't like having you kiss her. You'd leave grease all over her."

Snivellus quaked with rage, sputtering as he tried to think of something awful enough to call the Marauders. "You shut up about my mother, you big... loser... head!" he finally screeched.

"Big loser head? Wow, those are some strong words," James said caustically, shaking his head. He turned to Sirius. "Sirius, have you ever heard such an insult?"

"Never, in all my days," Sirius agreed acidly. "We're completely outclassed. I mean, how can a person compete with the boy who came up with four eyes? Been taking lessons from preschoolers, have you?"

Snape lifted his wand in one fluid motion and pointed it at Sirius.

Sirius was ready for him. "Expelliarmus!" Snape's face contorted in surprise as his wand flew out of his hand. Sirius caught it gracefully.

"Temper, temper, Snivelly," Sirius warned, holding out a scolding finger.

It happened so quickly that Sirius didn't even know who had hit him, or with what. He felt a sudden pain in his chest and found himself staring at the ceiling. The last thing he saw before his vision went black was Peter's concerned face, mouthing his name. It only barely registered that he should probably be hearing something.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital wing. He tried to move and a pain shot through him. "Lie still," Madame Pomfrey's voice ordered.

"Is he awake?" James asked, his voice clouded with concern. "Is he going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine," Madame Pomfrey answered.

"What happened?" Sirius asked, struggling to sit up.

"Lie still!" Madame Pomfrey ordered once more. Sirius stopped trying to get up. He had always hated being sick. It bored him, and besides that, his parents had very little patience with it. His father had once raged at him for having the audacity to catch dragon pox the day before they were supposed to have a dinner party, as though Sirius had somehow done it on purpose. Of course, he suspected that somewhere deep in Orion's shrunken heart, he honestly believed that Sirius had.

"Will someone please tell me what happened?" he asked.

"Dolohov hexed you," James reported. "We don't know what he did. After you passed out, most of the Slytherins got scared and ran away. Then Frank Longbottom showed up and brought you up here. Dumbledore was here a few minutes ago. We think Dolohov's going to be expelled. He was awfully angry."

Sirius grunted in response. He didn't want to think about what his parents would say about his getting a pureblood expelled.

"I didn't know Dumbledore got angry," Sirius commented.

"It was scary," Remus' voice said.

"You can sit up now," Madame Pomfrey told him. He did so. She gave him three potions to drink in rapid succession. Sirius made a face after each one. He wondered sometimes, with all the magic in the world, and all the discoveries being made,why no one could figure out how to make a potion taste like strawberries.

"How did you break your coccyx?" Madame Pomfrey asked after he had drunk the potions and handed the vials back to her.

"My what?"

"Your coccyx. Your tail bone. You've broken it more than once, and it didn't heal very well. "

"I've no idea," Sirius told her. "I probably fell or something."

"You don't break a bone that many times just by falling or something. And you certainly don't do it without realizing it."

"I don't know. I don't remember breaking it." He wished she'd stop being so nosy. "When I was learning to fly, I fell off my broomstick a lot. I probably just thought it was from that."

"Didn't your parents take you to be checked out after you fell?"

"Erm," Sirius stalled. "I usually didn't tell them. I wasn't supposed to be on broomsticks without their permission."

"I see," she said, her face stern. "Well, I can fix it for you if you like, but it won't be particularly pleasant. I can give you a sleeping potion so you'll sleep through most of it. But no more flying without proper supervision."

"No, ma'am," Sirius quickly agreed, flashing her his best angelic look.

Madame Pomfrey smiled at him. "There's a good lad. Here. Drink this."

Sirius drank the sleeping potion Madame Pomfrey held out to him. In no time at all, he was asleep.

When Sirius awoke, his muscles were stiff. He stretched and moaned and forced himself to sit. He looked around and saw Remus still in the bed next to him, sitting up as well. A book was open on his lap, but he wasn't looking at it. Instead, he was looking at Sirius.

"Morning," he said with a wide grin. "I was starting to think you'd never wake up."

"What are you reading?" Sirius asked around a huge yawn.

"It's called _Hogwarts, a History_. It's pretty interesting... for a history book, that is."

"Sounds it," Sirius agreed. It didn't sound interesting in the least. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten. Do you need anything? I can go get Madame Pomfrey if you're hungry."

Sirius shook his head. "Nah. I'm fine." He pushed himself up on his legs. They felt a tad shaky.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Madame Pomfrey's strict."

"I'm not afraid of her," Sirius said dismissively. He stood on his tiptoes and stretched his arms up as far as they would go, relishing the feeling of his muscles working.

"I'm going to get out of here," Sirius told Remus. "Want to come?"

Remus shook his head. "I haven't been dismissed yet."

"You look fine. How do you feel?"

"I feel fine. A little bored, truth be told, but she says I'm exhausted."

"Do you feel exhausted?"

"Not anymore."

"Then let's go. Come on. What's the worst she can do to us?"

Remus shrugged. "I don't know."

"Then let's go. I need to go to the owlery. Then we can come straight back. She'll never even know we were gone."

Remus chewed on his lip as he decided, but Sirius already knew he would choose to come. He had to be bored to be reading _Hogwarts, a History_. Sirius was not the least bit surprised when Remus announced, "Okay, I'll come. But just to the owlery, and then we have to come straight back."

"Yeah, sure," Sirius agreed absently. He bent down to get his satchel and a pain shot through his legs. He winced as he straightened up. He looked at Remus and saw that he hadn't noticed. He had pulled the curtains around his bed. Probably getting dressed. Sirius walked gingerly and found that the pain was gone. He'd just have to remember not to bend over until Madame Pomfrey had checked him.

The owlery was deserted when the boys arrived. Most students were in class. Sirius called down the biggest owl he could find and ordered it not to leave Regulus alone until he had an answer. The owl blinked its understanding and took off into the morning air, now clear and cold after the previous night's storm. Sirius wished he could go out and play in the snow, but he very much doubted he could explain that to Madame Pomfrey, and besides, he was still a little sore from yesterday's misadventures, much as he hated to admit it.

When they returned to the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall were both waiting for them. Madame Pomfrey descended first. "Where have you two been? I did not give you permission to leave."

"We just went to the owlery," Sirius explained. Remus had already begun hanging his head and had taken on the look of a condemned man on his way to Azkaban. Sirius would have to school him in keeping a cool head. He did well enough when the stakes were high and there was a chance of evading capture, but the moment they were caught, Remus just rolled over to accept his fate, usually with great amounts of guilt and sniffling. Sirius knew that the key was usually creativity and a lot of persistence. Even after being caught, a person could still get off if he were creative enough with his story, but not so creative as to be unbelievable. After that, it was only a matter of sticking to the story and keeping Peter quiet.

"I was sending a letter home. I missed my family, and I wanted to tell them I'm okay."

Madame Pomfrey softened immediately. Sirius knew she would; he had already learned that she was a sucker for homesickness.

"But I don't think I'm all mended yet," Sirius continued. "My legs hurt whenever I bend over."

That distracted Madame Pomfrey long enough to forget her quarrel with the boys. She turned all business as she ordered them both back into bed and checked them over. She informed Sirius that his tail bone was still mending, but that he hadn't made anything worse with his jaunt to the owlery. She rushed off to fetch him a pain potion as McGonagall moved in.

"I brought you your assignments."

"Thanks," Sirius said with a smile, reaching out to take them. He could tell by the look on her face that she had not bought his story.

"What were you really doing out of here?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. It made her face look a little frightening.

"We really were sending a letter home," Sirius told her.

"Why didn't you ask Madame Pomfrey to send it for you?"

"Because I had... special instructions."

"And what were those special instructions, might I ask?" Sirius tried to think of something that would sound innocuous. He had just decided to tell her the truth about Regulus' silence when he was saved the trouble by Peter's timely appearance.

"Professor! Professor! James and Snape are fighting in the Great Hall! They nearly knocked over the statue of Merlin and Arthur!"

Sirius and Remus were out of their beds in a flash, following her to the entrance hall where the evidence did indeed point to a duel. Professor Clayborne, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, was holding a valiantly-struggling James. "Let me go!" James shrieked. "I'm going to kill him!" He reached his arms out as though he wanted nothing more than to strangle the sallow skinned, black haired boy who was struggling just as mightily in the grip of Sirius' favorite professor, Professor Stark, the Astronomy teacher.

"Boys!" McGonagall barked. "Stop it this instant!"

James stopped struggling, but the look of pure fury remained on his face. "He hexed me!" James roared.

"It was only a jelly-legs jinx, and he deserved it. Look what he did to Lily!"

Sirius hadn't noticed Lily standing off to the side. He did a double take. She was completely bald. Sirius blanched. Figured they would have chosen a hair-regrowing potion that had been badly brewed. Maybe they should have accepted Slughorn's offer and taken their own after all. At least they knew it was quality. She seemed to be coping quite well, Sirius thought. Far better than he would have been had he been on the bad end of a hair-regrowing potion.

"I didn't mean to. It was a bad potion. It was supposed to make her hair grow back!" James cried. He was so angry he looked close to tears. "It was Snape's potion anyway. He brewed it." James narrowed his eyes at Snape as though Snape could have somehow known that his potion would be the one James would someday choose to help him get into Lily's good graces and had deliberately misbrewed it.

"It was not! My potion would never be that bad," Snape shouted out for the whole hall to hear.

"That's right," Lily said softly. Still, her voice carried for the whole hall to hear. "He's a wonderful potion maker. Aren't you, Sev?"

Severus nodded proudly, and James' anger broke. He resumed his heroic struggle to free himself from Clayborne's arms and throttle Severus Snape.

"Potter, that's enough!" McGonagall's sharp cry brought James momentarily back to himself. McGonagall looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. "Professor Clayborne, Professor Stark, would you take them to my office, please?"

The two professors nodded and began to drag their charges away. James managed to shake himself free and held his head high as he ascended the staircase. He caught Sirius' eye as he passed and shook his head furiously. Sirius did not envy Snape. He was sure James would be getting even very soon, and that when he did, it wouldn't be pretty.

"Move along, all of you. There's nothing more to see here!" McGonagall told the assembled crowd. The diaspora began immediately.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital wing?" Andromeda's voice asked behind Sirius.

Sirius whipped around. "Yes," he admitted. "But I had to make sure James was okay."

"He's fine, although if he doesn't stop fighting, McGonagall's probably going to start swishing him for it soon."

"He doesn't care," Sirius informed her.

Andromeda had no answer for that. She reached a hand out to Sirius. "Come on, let's get you back upstairs. What happened yesterday, anyway?"

Sirius told her the whole story. "I'm glad you weren't hurt worse," she told him sympathetically. "Dolohov's foul. His brother's foul, too. He's a fourth year. Likes to hex muggle borns for fun."

"Did he get expelled?" Remus asked.

Andromeda shook her head. "Dumbledore hardly ever expels people. Slughorn came down on him pretty hard, though. He shouted at him right in the middle of the common room. Kid blubbered like a baby."

Sirius felt a little guilty that that news made him happy. He felt it imprudent to gloat over someone else being shouted at when he spent so much of his time that same way.

"Do we have to go back to the Hospital Wing?" Sirius asked Andromeda. "We both feel fine, and Madame Pomfrey will do that hovering thing she does."

Andromeda laughed. "Well, I feel obligated to walk you up there, but if you don't actually go in, I suppose I can't be held responsible for that, can I?"

"But my bag is still in there," Remus said. "It has all my homework in it. And my pajamas."

"Bad luck," Sirius told him sympathetically. "I suppose we can go in and bolt again the second she leaves us alone."

"We could summon it," Andromeda suggested.

"We haven't learned summoning charms yet," Remus pouted. Sirius shrugged. He didn't really know summoning charms very well, either.

"I have," Andromeda said with a wink. A moment later, Remus' bag hit him in the chest. He fell over with a little "oof".

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over."

"It's fine," Remus said quickly. "Guess my strength's not completely back yet."

The Marauders had been camped out in the common room for a long while before James came through the portrait hole looking as furious as he had while walking to McGonagall's office. He was highly indignant as he reported how many points he had lost and how many nights' detention he would have to serve.

"And Lily thinks I made her go bald on purpose!" It was clear that bothered him more than anything.

"It might be time to give up on her, mate," Sirius said softly. He hated to see James tearing himself up like this, chasing after someone who would never like him back.

James' next words surprised Sirius so much he wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Sirius had never seen James looking so sad. It made his heart want to break for his friend.

"You know what you need? You need to get out of here. We all do. Come on!" Sirius took James' arm with one hand and Remus' with the other. He pulled them toward the door.

"Where are we going?" James asked.

"We're going to finish our unicorn hunt."

"But it's cold!" This protest came from Peter, who was trotting along behind.

"We'll take our cloaks," James replied, his eyes lighting up. "Maybe we'll really catch one this time."

"We're going to get caught," Remus groaned.

"So?" Sirius asked.

"Last time you got caught, you were whacked."

"And?" questioned James.

"And I don't want to be whacked!"

"Then don't come," Sirius replied with a shrug. He wasn't overly concerned. Anything worth doing had its risks. Besides, an afternoon in the Forest would be well worth it.

Remus thought for only a moment before he decided he didn't want to be left behind. Sirius wasn't surprised. Remus usually gave in quickly. After a brief stop in the kitchens for some provisions - Remus' idea - the four of them set off into the Forbidden Forest, where they forgot their quest to find unicorns quickly and instead spent most of the day building an elaborate snow fort. James even suggested they spend the night in it, but in the end, the cold of sundown and their growling stomachs lured them back into the castle where they were glad to discover that that their absence had passed without notice.


	23. Peter: 5 February, 1972

Peter: 5 February, 1972

"I'm _bored_," James proclaimed.

Remus sighed, sharing a look with Peter. They had learned by now that when James said, "I'm _bored_," all in italics like that, it meant they were about to get into trouble. Thus far, Remus and Peter had managed to avoid the bulk of the trouble, but Peter suspected that could only continue for so long before the teachers caught on. Sirius was a very good at getting them all out of tight spots, but he seemed to have reached the ends of his credibility with most of the staff.

"Then do something," Sirius replied nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up from his book. Peter hated the way Sirius was always nonchalant, and he seemed to be even more nonchalant than usual lately. Peter thought it must have had something to do with all the blondes that had begun congregating around him.

"There's nothing to do," James retorted. "If there was something to do, I wouldn't be bored."

Peter rolled his eyes at Remus. Remus rolled his eyes back.

"You could do homework," Remus suggested.

"It's Saturday!" James cried, as though Remus had just made the most offensive suggestion in the history of the world.

"Hi, Sirius," Erin Collins said breathlessly.

For her, Sirius lowered the book. "Hello, beautiful," he said in a deep voice. Erin giggled like a giggly giggling girl. Peter hated giggly giggling girls. He hated even more that the giggly giggling girls always seemed to giggle around Sirius, and around James, and sometimes even around Remus, but never around him. Not that he cared about giggly giggling girls in the slightest. Girls were painfully ridiculous. Also, they smelled strange - like fruit or flowers or sometimes fruit and flowers. Peter couldn't begin to imagine why a person would want to smell like either fruit or flowers, and he certainly couldn't understand why a person would want to smell like both. Still, Peter wouldn't have minded a giggle or two for his sake. He did have blue eyes, after all, and giggly giggling girls seemed to spend a lot of their time between giggles talking about which famous men had blue eyes.

James threw a pillow at Sirius. Sirius caught it in mid-air. "Sirius!" he whinged. "I'm _bored_!"

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Sirius asked. Peter was quite sure that if he were to throw a pillow at Sirius, Sirius would be angry. He decided to try it.

"Oi!" Sirius protested, whipping his head to glare at Peter. "What the hell was that for?"

He threw the pillow back. Hard. Peter ducked. It hit Frank Longbottom, who turned very slowly, a truly terrifying look in his eye. Peter blanched.

"Who threw that?"

"Sirius," Peter said quickly. He thought it very unfair when his friends all glared at him. It was true. Sirius had thrown it.

"Well, knock it off," Frank ordered. "And by the way, Potter, if you don't shut up about being bored, I'm going to hang you from the chandelier by your ankles and gag you."

Frank turned back to his homework. James stuck his tongue out at the back of Frank's head. Frank turned. "You do realize there's a mirror on the wall?"

James' face went blank except for his eyes, which shifted uncomfortably. "I do now," he said after a very long pause.

Peter bit his lip to keep from smiling. It wasn't often that James Potter was put in his place. "Come on, gentlemen. Let's get out of here."

"And go where?" Remus asked. It was pouring rain outside, and there was nowhere - absolutely nowhere - inside the castle that was the least bit exciting. Besides that, there wasn't much time. It was very nearly curfew. Not that curfew ever stopped them, but they usually at least waited until the common room was empty.

James sighed loudly. Remus and Peter looked at one another again. Sirius didn't respond. James sighed loudly again. Sirius still didn't respond. The next sigh was more akin to a huff. Then came an actual huff. Frank Longbottom made a noise of frustration somewhere deep in his throat. James threw himself out of his chair and stomped up the stairs toward their dormitory. He paused when he was almost out of sight and turned to see if anyone was following him. No one was. His face fell, and he disappeared without any more dramatics.

Now it was Sirius' turn to sigh. Frank Longbottom began to mutter under his breath. Sirius followed James up the stairs.

"Should we go check on them? Make sure they're not destroying the common room?" Remus asked. Peter shook his head. He thought it terribly obnoxious that the events of the group always revolved around what James and Sirius wanted to do. It wasn't fair, really. They were almost like one entity, as though they had ceased being James and Sirius and had, at some point over the past few months, morphed into James-and-Sirius, less mates than forces to be reckoned with. And Remus and Peter were just pulled along, like they were caught in some ebony-haired whirlwind whose life goal was to land them in detention. Remus seemed to like it. Peter resented it. Just not enough to do anything about it. Being popular was fun, after all, even if he didn't have any giggly giggling blondes to show for it.

James-and-Sirius reappeared. "We've decided to do something," James announced.

"What?" Remus asked.

"We're not sure yet. Would you like to come?"

"For the love of Merlin, go," Frank snapped.

"Frank," Alice McKinnon scolded.

"What?" Frank asked. "I'm over here up to my eyeballs in homework, and they're whinging about being bored. It's damn near criminal is what it is."

"Let's go quickly," Remus said delicately, already rising to his feet.

There really wasn't anywhere to go, so the Marauders settled for their old standby: the kitchens. Peter wasn't particularly hungry, as they'd just finished dinner less then two hours ago, but James was hungry. James was always hungry. Ten minutes after dinner, when Peter was so stuffed he could hardly move, James would start complaining about being hungry. Peter couldn't figure out where he was keeping all that food, especially considering that no matter how much he ate, he always stayed skinny as a rail.

Peter was beginning to get pudgy around the edges from all the midnight snacks and mid-afternoon snacks and mid-morning-we-really-should-get-to-Transfiguration-but-James-is-hungry-so-let's-just-swing-by-the-kitchens-for-a-second snacks and all the biscuits that his mother sent. He seemed to get more of them every day, and they were always on hand. Every time Peter turned around, James was eating something, and it always looked good, so Peter always ended up eating a little as well. And now he was getting fat. And no one else was. It wasn't fair, that's what.

This particular evening, though, they never made it to the kitchens. They barely made it past the library before they found Lucius Malfoy and Walden MacNair bullying some poor first year. Whoever it was, they had him pushed into a corner. The Marauders couldn't see his face, only the top of his head, covered with closely-cropped red hair. James-and-Sirius watched for only a moment before declaring they had to do something and charging over. Peter groaned. Anyone else would have been glad he wasn't the one being smashed into a wall at the moment, and walked on. But not James-and-Sirius. They preferred to run headlong into trouble as often as they possibly could. They claimed it was bravery, but Peter thought it was stupidity. Courage was all well and good, but self-preservation wasn't bad, either.

"What are you- Lily!"

The victim they had thought was a boy was in fact Lily. Her hair was beginning to grow back, but was still ridiculously short. After she went bald, Slughorn offered her another hair-regrowing potion, but she refused, claiming she'd had more than enough of them for the time being and would let her hair grow back on its own. She had taken surprisingly little teasing for it, mostly because James made it known throughout the school that he would personally punch the head of anyone who dared take the mickey out of her. She wasn't nearly as appreciative about it as she should have been, in Peter's opinion. If someone had offered to punch people for taking the mickey out of him, he'd have been grateful. But Lily just narrowed her eyes and said, "Why is punching people your response to everything?"

"Because I'm a boy," James had replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I don't want you punching people for me, James Potter. You should just mind your own business!" Peter couldn't see what James saw in her. She was annoying, really. Nowhere near pretty enough to make it worth putting up with her constant nagging.

"James! Sirius!" Lily called under Malfoy's armpit. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"This doesn't concern you, Potter," Malfoy sneered, not taking his eyes off Lily. "We're teaching this mudblood her place is all. If you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and walk the other way."

"I will not," James declared, his face contorting with fury.

"That's right," Sirius agreed. "You let her go right now."

Malfoy turned toward them for the first time. "Or you'll what?"

James opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat as Malfoy's eyes widened. The second he was distracted, Lily had kicked him so hard between the legs that the Marauders heard something crunch. They all groaned in sympathy as he clutched at his groin and fell to his knees before landing sideways on the floor. Lily shook MacNair off and ran to hide behind Sirius. James narrowed his eyes at them.

Sirius shrugged. Peter really hoped Lily's clear preference for Sirius would eventually cause James-and-Sirius to fight, not because he necessarily wanted to see them fight so much as because he wanted to know who would win. Although, he had to admit that watching them fight might be a little bit fun as well. Watching anyone fight was usually fun. And then they'd get in trouble, and watching someone who wasn't himself get into trouble was always fun. Especially when it was James-and-Sirius, who really were too obnoxiously perfect, damn them.

MacNair wasn't the brightest fairy in the tree, but even he could put together that five against one was not good odds, even if the five were first years, so he turned and fled down the stairs to seek safety in his own common room.

"That's right, run!" Peter called after him. "And don't let us catch you bothering Evans again!" Suddenly, Peter felt very courageous and very proud of his courage. He turned back to find the Marauders staring at him with disapproval on their face. His smile faded. If James or Sirius had said it, the others would have thought it terribly clever.

A sudden groan from the floor reminded them all that Malfoy was still there. James-and-Sirius looked at one another and grinned as they leaned their heads in close to whisper to one another.

"Should we?" James asked very suddenly.

"I think we should," Sirius replied.

Peter had just enough time to wonder what they were talking about when Sirius pointed his wand at Malfoy and said confidently, "Petrificus Totalus."

Malfoy's groans stopped suddenly. James-and-Sirius smiled confidently.

"Brilliant!" James said approvingly.

"It was your idea," Sirius replied, just as approvingly.

"Yes, it was a good idea, wasn't it? Now if only we knew how to conjure a toilet." James said. Sirius conjured a toilet.

They worked to set Malfoy upon it, and to drag it into the center of the corridor where everyone was sure to see.

"Come on," James said after a moment of admiring their handiwork. "Let's get back upstairs before someone finds him." James held out a hand to Lily. She did not take it. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before running his hand through his hair to hide his embarrassment. He had taken to mussing his hair quite a lot lately. Peter thought it made him look like an idiot, but it seemed popular with the girls, not that James was interested in any of them. Despite his oft-repeated promise to forget about her, he still had eyes only for Lily.

For her part, Lily clearly wanted nothing to do with James and, while James pretended with all his might not to care, Peter could tell he did very much. He thought it was good for James, really, to have someone put him in his place every once and again. At any rate, Peter reckoned, maybe he would eventually figure out that not everyone thought he hung the moon and rein in his ego a little bit. Of course, so long as Sirius was around and the two of them had their little mutual admiration society, Peter doubted very seriously that either of their egos would be getting smaller.

They had not been in the common room long before McGonagall stormed in. She didn't come into the common room often - usually only for important announcements or to fetch someone who was in trouble. Judging by the look on her face today, it was the latter reason that had brought her. She looked especially angry. Peter waited with bated breath to find out who was in trouble.

"Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Evans, come with me right this instant!"

It took Peter a moment to get over the shock when his name was called. The Marauders shared a look with one another that showed confusion more that anything. After all, they hadn't broken any rules in at least twenty-four hours. Not that Peter could think of, anyway. Lily Evans looked just as confused, and a little bit angry, as though finding herself suddenly tarred with the same brush as the Marauders were somehow insulting.

The reality of their current type of trouble came crashing down around Peter's head quite suddenly when he stepped into McGonagall's office and saw Malfoy, MacNair, and Slughorn there, all looking as though they had just accidentally swallowed a hair-regrowing potion and expected hair to begin emerging from their mouths as any moment.

"Explain yourselves," McGonagall barked, and she fixed Peter with that stare that made Peter want to confess to every crime that had ever been committed in the history of humanity. He wondered briefly what McGonagall would say if he were to admit to having participated in the sacking of Rome. James-and-Sirius would kill him if he confessed. Likely soon. And painfully. All sorts of images of his possible death at the hands of his friends began to parade across his mind. Most of them involved laser beams shooting out of Sirius' eyes. He clamped his mouth shut and looked at the ground, which really didn't help, because he could still _feel_ her looking at him, and that made him want to confess, too.

"He was attacking Lily," James said said angrily. "We told him to stop, and he asked us how we were going to make him, and then he fell."

"How did he fall, Potter?" McGonagall asked, in that pray-only-that-I-kill-you-quickly tone that she seemed to keep in her back pocket, ready to pull out on a moment's notice whenever an occasion such as this one should happen to arise. Why couldn't Peter have gone to a house that didn't have a scary head? Why couldn't he had been a Slytherin? Slughorn was cute and grandfatherly and never, ever scary. Peter suspected McGonagall had been a dragon in her past life.

"I kicked him," Lily said. "But he was hurting me."

"Is this true?" McGonagall asked, rounding on Malfoy. Malfoy shifted his weight, wincing.

"We were only talking to her."

"You liar!" James accused. "She was scared out of her wits. And you told us you were putting her in her place because she was... well..." James looked at McGonagall. "He called her a very nasty name."

"What? Mudblood?" Lily asked.

McGonagall's glare hardened. "Miss Evans, I do not allow language like that in my office."

"But I don't even know what it means. I'd never even heard it before he called me that."

McGonagall turned back to Malfoy. "I see," she said with a nod.

She opened her mouth to begin shouting and was cut off by Slughorn, whose shouting, they quickly learned, put McGonagall's to shame.

"Lucius Malfoy! I have never been more ashamed of someone in my house. Look at me, son! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, picking on first years and using such language. I never would have thought it of a Slytherin. I said, look at me, son! And then lying about it and trying to blame it on the very same first years you were trying to bully! It's sheer cowardice, is what it is, and I won't have it! You will never do such a thing again, or I'll personally see to it that you spend the rest of your days in detention. Is that clear? I said IS THAT CLEAR?"

The Marauders looked at one another. McGonagall yelled like a teacher. Slughorn yelled like a father. Peter was suddenly very glad he wasn't a Slytherin.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy muttered as Slughorn rounded on MacNair to deliver another scathing lecture. By the time he finished, the Gryffindors had all backed away so far that they now stood in a clump by the door, wishing they were anywhere but here.

"I ought to cane you both," Slughorn continued. "I jolly well think I shall. Minerva, have you a cane?"

"But I'm a prefect!" Malfoy protested.

"Not anymore, you're not!"

"But! But! But!" Malfoy's brain seemed to have gone on overload. He stood there stuttering for several more moments. "But I'm a Malfoy!" he finally forced out.

"And what difference does that make?" McGonagall asked.

Malfoy apparently had no answer for that. He threw a look at the Gryffindors in the corner that said, quite clearly, "when I regain the ability to walk without wincing, I'm going to walk all over all your faces." Then he shifted his weight and winced. Peter fought the urge to laugh. He wasn't sure if he really thought it was funny or if he was just so terrified that his body needed something to do. He felt positively giddy with fright. So giddy his fingertips tingled and he had a sudden urge to jump out the window or wet himself or possibly both.

"But these... children... are still here!"

"If you can misbehave in front of other people, you can accept your punishment in front of other people!" Slughorn snapped.

"We really don't want to watch," Remus said suddenly. Peter wished he'd speak for himself. The idea of watching Malfoy, who kicked him out of his compartment on the very first day, get taken down a peg or two, filled Peter with delight. Of course, if he hadn't kicked Peter out of the compartment, Peter wouldn't have met Remus, except that he probably would have because they were in the same house, after all, so really Malfoy deserved it.

"Then you are free to go," Slughorn said.

"Actually, Horace, I still wished to discuss a few things with them."

"Fine. We'll go to my office. Here, hold this."

Slughorn held the cane out to Malfoy, who took it with a shudder, which lasted only a second before it changed to a grimace as Slughorn grabbed both him and MacNair by the ears - quite a feat as they were both taller than him. Peter very much doubted he would ever allow anyone shorter than him to pull him anywhere by the ear.

"Open the door, Pettigrew," Slughorn ordered. Peter obeyed as his friends parted like the Red Sea to allow Slughorn and the fifth-years to pass. "There's good lad."

When they door closed, McGonagall began to massage her own temples. She took a deep breath and resumed glaring at everyone. Peter began to understand how a person could allow someone shorter than them to drag them places by the ear. He wondered if he'd ever get old enough to not be afraid of McGonagall.

"I understand now how Malfoy came to be kicked, but I simply must ask, how did he come to be on a toilet in the middle of the corridor?"

"Oh, that," James began. "Well, we thought it would be funny."

"We cast petrificus totalus on him because we were afraid he was going to come after us. Then we sort of realized he looked like he'd caught one sideways," Sirius explained.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Caught one sideways?" The sides of her mouth began to twitch. Peter thought she was either about to laugh or breathe fire, though he wasn't sure which. He backed nearer to the door, flattening himself against it, ready to make a quick exit in the case of the latter.

It was the former. The Marauders stared, mouths agape, as she threw her head back and laughed, loud and long. Peter began to worry that she'd lost her mind. But when she stopped laughing and wiped the tears from her eyes, she seemed perfectly sane. "One of these days, you four are going to drive me to drink. Evans, are you all right?"

Lily nodded, looking very unsure of herself.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?"

Lily shook her head. "No, I was more scared than anything, really. Honestly, if James and Sirius hadn't come along..."

James and Sirius. Figured they would get all the credit, as though Remus and Peter hadn't been there the whole time. Peter sulked.

"Remus and I helped," he muttered.

"All you did was yell after MacNair once we already had him on the run," James noted. Peter felt his face flushing hot.

"Not being involved in a fight is nothing to be ashamed of, Potter," McGonagall said, her stern demeanor returning. Peter smiled.

"It wasn't really a fight, Professor," Sirius explained innocently. "Malfoy backed down pretty quickly after Lily kicked him, and then MacNair ran away. We didn't do much at all."

"Still, I would much rather you seek out a teacher than try to handle things on your own. Your courage is certainly commendable, boys, but there's never an excuse to attack a prefect."

"But there was no time!" James said defensively.

"Yes, I understand that," McGonagall said lightly. "That's why I'm docking one point for each of you." Peter narrowed his eyes. That seemed an awfully light sentence. "And awarding you each five points for bravery. Potter, Black, Remus, and Pettigrew, you four get an extra five for proper timing. Evans, you get an extra five for impeccable aim." McGonagall's lips twitched again and she sent them away quickly. As they closed the door, they heard her laughter break forth once more. She had a surprisingly merry laugh for a former dragon.

Peter felt light as he raced the others back to the common room. Judging by the way they laughed and whooped as they ran, they all had as much nervous energy as he did. Far too much energy to stay cooped up in the common room. No sooner had they stepped through the portrait hole and settled themselves on the sofas than James said, "I'm _bored_," in italics again. Peter worried that with the amount of energy they all had now, the rain wouldn't be able to stop them from going outside. James had the look in his eye that he usually got before he suggested they do something very ridiculous and slightly suicidal, like painting the entire castle pink or sticking their wands up McGonagall's nose or turning the main staircase into a gigantic slide.

Remus and Sirius responded to James' complaint by smothering him with a pillow. When they removed it, he was laughing.

"Wild hippogriffs couldn't drag me out of here before breakfast," Remus said. "I've had quite enough excitement for one evening, thank you very much."

James seemed to accept that answer and Peter found himself wondering, as he always did, if the answer would have been accepted so quickly were he the one to say it. Sometimes he hated being the least-loved Marauder. Other times, he was just happy to be a Marauder at all.

The next morning, Malfoy limped into the Great Hall. The prefect badge that had so recently gleamed on his chest was conspicuous by its absence. It was very uncommon for a prefect to be demoted.

The second he stepped into the hall, the whispers began. By now, the entire school had heard the entire story. James-and-Sirius had almost personally seen to that. Malfoy's eye quickly found the Marauders and glared at them. Sirius waved cheerfully. Erin Collins, who seemed to be everywhere Sirius was lately, giggled like a giggly giggling girl. "You're so _brave_, Sirius," she breathed. Peter rolled his eyes, wondering if she was capable of saying anything in a normal voice. Across from him, Remus rolled his eyes as well. James was too busy making eyes at Lily to roll his, or he probably would have. His patience with Sirius' blondes was limited, after all.

Lily pointedly ignored him. She hadn't even bothered to thank the Marauders for their rescue yesterday, such that it was. James didn't seem to care. Peter really hoped he would never make himself that stupid over a girl. James turned back to his toast, disappointment on his face. The disappointment only deepened as Erin giggled, dropping her head onto Sirius' shoulder. Now James did roll his eyes. Peter rolled his again. James smiled. They were still rolling their eyes as they walked to their first class. Up ahead of them, Sirius was walking arm in arm with Erin, carrying her books. When he arrived in Charms, he had lipstick on his cheek.

When James pointed it out, Sirius merely wiped it casually with the sleeve of his robes. If Peter were to be caught with lipstick on his cheek, he'd probably be humiliated beyond reckoning. He began to wonder if anything could ever embarrass Sirius. He decided to try to find out. That was how the Great Ink Pellet War of '72 began. By the time Flitwick managed to calm everyone - namely by casting jelly-legs jinxes at anyone who dared to move - every person and every surface of the Charms classroom was covered in ink.


	24. Remus: 13 February, 1972

Remus: 13 February, 1972

"And over there's Orion," Sirius explained. The Marauders followed his gaze. "You see the three stars, there in a row?"

As one, the Marauders cocked their heads sideways.

"That's his belt, and the three stars next to it, that's his club."

"Doesn't look like a club," Peter said.

"Nah, I guess it doesn't really," Sirius replied. "Sometimes I think the Greeks liked to stretch things a little bit."

"How do you know so much about this?" James asked.

"My Uncle Alphard takes me out stargazing a lot when I stay with him. He used to read me all the Greek myths, and then we'd go out and find the people we'd just read about in the constellations."

"He sounds nice," Remus murmured, wishing he wasn't having so much trouble keeping his eyes open. He was still a bit weak from his transformation two nights before. He had briefly considered begging out of the late-night trip to the Astronomy tower, but Sirius needed his friends, and so Remus had come.

"He is nice," Sirius said softly. "When I was little, I used to wish he was my father." There was something in Sirius' tone - something dangerous and frightening and heartbreaking all at once that made Remus know that the comment was anything but innocent, but he wasn't about to ask for more information. Not when Sirius' mood just seemed to be improving.

"Why?" Peter asked. Remus cringed.

"My father doesn't like me much," Sirius said, even more softly. He sounded very young as he said it, and very fragile. Fragile in the sort of way that Remus could never imagine a person who was always so very strong and confident and larger-than-life as Sirius being fragile. Fragile in the way that Remus was fragile as the full moon approached, or the way Peter was fragile when he talked about his mother. "I'm not the sort of person he wanted for his son," Sirius continued.

James propped himself up on his elbow and turned to look at Sirius. "What sort of person did he want, then?"

Sirius sat up and shrugged. "I don't know. Someone more like him, I guess. Someone who would enjoy bullying house elves and terrifying muggles and being seen at all the right places and going on bloody fox hunts. I don't want to talk about it."

Sirius stood and strode to the door that would take him back into the castle. James jumped up and raced after him, beating him to the door. James was so fast. Remus found it very impressive. "Sirius, don't go," Remus said. "Your father doesn't know anything about anything. You're bloody brilliant, and if he can't see that, he's an idiot."

Sirius scowled. "You don't know anything about it," he muttered. Remus wasn't sure why Sirius was so suddenly upset, but he knew it had something to do with a letter he had received that morning that informed him, among other things, that his family would be traveling for the Easter holidays, and he would not be invited to come along - not that he wanted to, he was careful to say - and that his cousin Bellatrix was engaged to be married to a _proper_ husband, with emphasis on the word proper.

"I think she threw that in on purpose," Sirius had complained. "As if to say that she is proper and I am not and never have been. They should have just had Reg and bought a dog." Then he shredded the letter into confetti and burned the larger pieces during Potions, and had been in a foul mood all day. James tried to cheer him up, the way he had on Halloween, but the two of them ended up in a shouting match that only ended when one of them - neither of them would say who - exploded the chandelier in the common room in a rather impressive display of accidental magic.

McGonagall arrived with surprising speed to ensure no one was hurt and deliver a scathing lecture to both of them on learning to control their tempers. She made a great deal of noise about taking points and putting them in detention, but in the end she did neither. It had been an accident, after all. When McGonagall left, Sirius snapped at his friends to just leave him the hell alone and stomped up to the dormitory to be alone. The other Marauders gave him a wide berth after that.

Then he stumbled down the stairs quite unexpectedly earlier in the evening to announce that he wanted to go stargazing and wanted them to come along. And so they had, because Sirius was their friend, and that's what friends do. Sirius said he always liked to stargaze when he felt sad because it made him feel happier.

"Sirius," James said, pleading with Sirius to stay.

Sirius shook him off, jerking his arm away. "Just leave me alone, James," he snapped. And then he was gone in a whoosh of woolen cloaks and smoldering glares.

"What's with him," Peter asked, sitting up.

Remus pursed his lips and bit back a retort. James gave it for him. "Reading between the lines, I'd say he doesn't get on with his family very well," James snapped. "Come on, let's go. It's freezing out here."

Remus was rather enjoying the cold, but he had no desire to stay up there alone. He wished there were some way to cheer Sirius up. He was usually so happy that seeing him sad was especially jarring.

"Remus, where's the cloak?" James asked as he opened the door. After much begging on James' part, his father had finally returned the invisibility cloak to him a few days before with a stern warning that he would not get it back so quickly were it to be taken again.

"He doesn't really mean that," James had said, running his hand confidently through his hair. "They can never say no to me."

Remus stopped short. He had been declared keeper of the cloak that evening, a job they were all beginning to share. After they arrived on top of the Astronomy tower, however, he had given it to Sirius to use as a pillow.

"Sirius had it, mate," Remus explained. He hated that he felt so guilty, as though he were the one who had just run off with someone else's cloak and left his friends exposed all the way across the castle from their common room. Whenever anything went wrong, he always felt he was at fault, somehow. "I'm sorry, but he said he wanted something to put his head on, and then I forgot about it when he was leaving. I'm really sorry."

"Calm down, Remus," James said lightly. "It's not your fault. You know, you really shouldn't apologize so much."

"Sorry," Remus said sheepishly.

"Now you're apologizing for apologizing," Peter said, a smile in his voice.

"Sorry, I... Oh, never mind!" Remus sighed.

James gave a little laugh. "You worry too much. We like you how you are, you know. You don't have to apologize and be all nice and stuff."

Remus shrugged, not sure what to say to that. He didn't know any way to be besides nice.

"How's your mum doing, by the way?" James asked as they traveled to the bottom of the tower.

"She's better," Remus replied. He'd gone home for his most recent transformation under the guise of visiting his ill mother. It had been nice to be home again, though he was surprised by how much he missed the post-transformation visits from his friends.

The journey back to the common room was uneventful, though when they arrived they discovered that Sirius was not there.

"Should we go look for him?" Remus asked.

"Look for him where?" Peter replied. "We'll never find him. The castle's too big, and if he's hiding under the cloak..."

James chewed on his lip. "Peter's probably right. He knows where to find the dormitory, after all."

"I think we should look for him," Remus repeated.

James chewed his lip some more as he thought. Remus knew that, in the end, they would do whatever James decided to do. He was the ringleader, after all. Besides that, he knew Sirius best, and he was the most likely to be able to cheer Sirius up. He would listen to their suggestions, but it would be his decision to make.

"Right," he said after a pause. "We're going to go look for him."

"I'm not," Peter said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine, then stay here," James replied. It wasn't said unkindly, but Peter scowled all the same. Remus had sensed his growing frustration since they returned from the hols, but he wasn't sure what to do about it, and so he did nothing.

There was something about Hogwarts at night that Remus inherently liked. The nighttime silence and whispers and shadows made it seem a much different place than it was in the day time. While the sun was out, it was a school - bustling with excitement and activity and challenges and romance, but when the castle was asleep, it became more like itself, somehow. The excitement of the waking hours was replaced by intrigue. Daytime Hogwarts was a place to be navigated. Moonlit Hogwarts was a place to be explored.

Sometimes Remus liked to imagine that he and his friends were the only people in the castle - explorers in some faraway land excavating some precious find as they explored secret tunnels and empty classrooms. When they were off exploring, their faces flushed with wide-eyed innocence and enthusiasm, Remus could almost forget who he was. What he was. In those times when he lost himself - when he let himself be just Remus: Marauder, friend, student, boy, person - he almost felt as though he stepped into someone else's life. That was the Marauders' gift to him, and they would never know. He could never tell them.

He feared, sometimes, that they would discover the secret on their own. Sirius and James were both plenty smart, after all, and they seemed to love a mystery. During his last formation, they had bombarded him with questions, and he overheard them discussing him in the dormitory a few days later. He sneaked up the stairs and just outside the door to listen more carefully.

"Blimey, you don't think he's dying, do you?" James had asked in a hushed voice.

"Nah, I'm sure he's not dying. He always gets better quickly," Sirius had replied. Even so, he didn't sound so sure.

"But then he just gets sick again a few weeks later," James had countered.

"That is true," Sirius allowed. "And it's a little weird how he won't answer any questions about it. He just says it's nothing serious, but I think he's lying."

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know. If he's lying, he's really good at it. But how can it be nothing serious when he keeps getting sick? And did you see him last week? What sort of illness leaves cuts on a person's face? He's keeping something from us. I'm sure of it."

"But we're his friends!" James had cried indignantly. "You're not supposed to keep things from your friends."

"Says who?" Sirius had countered. "Everyone keeps secrets."

"Are you keeping secrets from me?"

"No, of course not," Sirius had answered, a little too quickly. "But I'm keeping them from all sorts of other people."

James had sighed and changed the subject to Charms, so Remus had sneaked back down the stairs only to remember that he had gone up to the dormitory for his Potions book in the first place. This time, he was careful to make noise on the stairs so they'd hear him coming. When he arrived, James and Sirius had smiled at him and chatted pleasantly and given away none of their suspicions. They were good that way. Solid. Loyal. He was lying to them, and they knew it, and yet they stood by him. He could lie to them until the owls came home and it would be the same. For a moment, a small, tiny, terrifying moment, he considered telling them the truth, but the moment passed, good sense took over, and he merely smiled.

That conversation was why he decided to go home for his next transformation, hoping to deflect their curiosity. He feared what would happen if they discovered his secret. They would turn their backs on him then, he was sure. After all, loyalty could only carry a person so far. Lying about a mystery illness was one thing; being the stuff of nightmares was something completely different.

Remus followed James mindlessly around the corridors. It was easy, really; James loved to be in charge, so he was in his element, leading Remus this way and that, through abandoned corridors and secret passageways that only he and Sirius were adventurous enough to find. Remus did not emerge from his reverie until he heard James swear. Then he looked up to realize that he had no idea where they were.

"Where are we?" Remus asked.

"Somewhere on the sixth floor," James replied. "I remember there being a passageway around here somewhere, but I can't find it. I think I took a wrong turn. Come on."

It didn't take them long to realize they were going in circles. James swore again. "Why hasn't anyone ever made a map of this place?"

"Would that even be possible? It keeps changing."

"Maybe someone could make a map that changes with it."

"That still wouldn't help us find Sirius, though."

"Well then, maybe someone could make a map that changes with the castle and shows the locations of all the people in it. Then we could go straight to Sirius."

Remus thought that idea a bit far-fetched, but he said nothing. He knew by now that when James got that starry-eyed look, he wouldn't listen to anyone anyway. Except perhaps Sirius, though Sirius was usually right there beside him, plotting out how to make James' newest fantasy come true. Their ingenuity was really quite astounding.

"Just think of what a person could do with a map like that," James was saying as he led them back the way they had come. "We could know where all the teachers and prefects are all the time. Maybe it could even tell passwords. Then we could sneak right into the Slytherin common room any time we liked, and never get caught, because we'd be able to see trouble coming. That would be brilliant, wouldn't it? Hullo! Where'd that door come from?"

Next to James' right hand, a door had appeared that Remus was sure had not been there a moment before.

"Maybe it's been pretending to be a wall," Remus suggested. Doors did that sometimes at Hogwarts, and most of them were very finicky about turning back. A few liked to be tickled. Others liked to be knocked. This one, apparently, just wanted to be talked to.

James opened the door and found a familiar corridor behind it. "Whew, we finally found our way out," he said when they made it back through the mysterious corridor and onto a familiar staircase.. "Come on. I don't think we're going to find Sirius. We should go back to the common room before we get caught."

"Too late," came the wheezy voice of Argus Filch. A second later, the man himself stepped out of a nearby classroom, lantern in hand.

Remus' stomach knitted itself into knots. It always did when he landed himself in trouble.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Filch demanded.

"Erm," James replied, stalling for time. Remus immediately wished they had found Sirius. He would know just what to say to get them out of trouble. He always did. James was pants at that sort of thing. Already his face was turning red as he tried to think up a convincing lie, and once he had thought one up, not only would be be too far-fetched to be believable, he would deliver it with so much stuttering and shifting of the eyes that no one would have believed it anyway.

Remus could lie when he had to. Growing up with secrets had taught him that, but he wasn't always the quickest on his feet. He usually thought up the perfect response two minutes too late. He looked at James, hoping for a miracle. James looked back, an apology already on his face. Just then there was a loud crash down the hall. Filch turned toward the noise. For a moment, he swiveled his head from James and Remus to the direction from which the noise had come, and back to James and Remus in rapid succession. Then came another crash.

"Stay here," Filch ordered, and went off to investigate the crash and, most likely, visit horrible punishments upon the perpetrator. He enjoyed telling students that Hogwarts headmasters had once allowed their groundskeepers to chain miscreants up in the dungeons. He claimed to be able to remember it, but Remus' father, who was older than Filch, said he had never heard of such a thing and that Filch must be making it up. Sirius swore up and down that Filch was a squib and therefore couldn't know such a thing, but the thought frightened Remus all the same.

If Remus had been alone, he'd have stood there in the middle of the corridor, just waiting to be punished, until Filch returned. James, however, had different plans. So did Sirius, who appeared just then from the direction Filch had run.

"You two are hopeless, honestly," he said with a grin. "It's a good thing I was here to save your neck."

"You made those crashes?" James asked.

Sirius nodded and invited Remus and James under the cloak. They both rushed to join him.

"What did you do?" Remus whispered.

"I knocked over a few cabinets," Sirius explained as they headed toward the common room. "By the time he gets the mess cleaned up, he probably will have forgotten all about you two, and with any luck, he'll blame the busted cupboards on Peeves and won't investigate." Sirius smiled. "Sorry for leaving you without the cloak. I forgot I had it until I was down the stairs, and then I went back up but you were gone, so I went to the common room, but you weren't there, either. Pete said you'd gone out looking for me, so I went out looking for you. You two are hard to find, by the way."

"We got trapped on the sixth floor. The door we came in pretended to be a wall," James told him, silencing Remus, who had been just about to open his mouth and remind Sirius that Peter really despised being called Pete.

"I hate it when they do that," Sirius replied. "And when walls pretend to be doors. Did I tell you I actually saw some poor Hufflepuff walk into a wall the other day because he thought it was a door. Gave himself a bloody nose."

Remus winced. He had come very close to doing the same thing once when he was late for Potions. James was right; a map of Hogwarts that could keep track of all its changes would be most helpful.

Remus halfway expected Peter to be waiting for them in the common room when they returned, but he wasn't.

"I hope he hasn't gone wandering, too," Sirius said. "I don't think I can handle another rescue mission tonight."

They found Peter in the dormitory, sitting up in his bed, sound asleep. He had obviously fallen asleep waiting up for them. Remus felt a small surge of affection for his little friend. He wasn't always the most thoughtful person, but he certainly tried hard.

Remus felt another surge of affection for Peter when he lay down in his bed and noticed, for the first time, that there were glittery, glowing stars on the ceiling. Stars of all sizes in many colors - yellow stars, white stars, red stars, orange stars, even a few blue stars - twinkled at the Marauders from above their heads.

"Would you look at that," James exclaimed.

"Peter must have done it," Remus said, his voice awed. "He must have done it to make Sirius feel better."

Sirius stood in the center of the room, craning his neck. "They even go into the bathroom," he said softly, heading to the bathroom to look. James and Remus clambered out of their beds to follow him. Sirius spun circles in the bathroom, trying to see every corner. When a beam of moonlight caught his face, it was completely awed. Remus couldn't help smiling at Sirius' clear joy over the new ceiling.

"We should find constellations in these stars," he whispered. "Look, in the corner, that sort of looks like a Lion. It can be Gryffindor."

"That one looks like a unicorn," James said, pointing in the opposite direction. "What's a good name for a unicorn?"

Sirius shrugged. "I've no idea."

"How about Tallulah?" James suggested.

Sirius laughed. "Tallulah the unicorn?"

"What about Vivian?" Remus suggested.

"Vivian," Sirius repeated. "I like it. Vivian the unicorn. Now we have to think up a good story for her."

"Maybe she was friends with a prince. Named something very princely like Henry or Richard."

"There he is," James declared, pointing to a group of stars next to the unicorn that resembled a crown. "I think he should be called Edmund."

"Edmund it is," Sirius declared.

Remus continued his story. "And they rode into battle together to defeat the horrible invading... goblins."

"That sort of looks like a goblin over there," Sirius declared, pointing at another little formation of stars that did indeed resemble a hook-nosed goblin. "We'll call him Arnuk."

"But Arnuk, the leader of the goblins, injured Vivian, and Edmund, seeing her blood on the ground, flew into a rage and fought Arnuk to the death. Upon seeing their leader fall, the goblins retreated, terrified of the mighty warrior, Edmund. When the goblin king was dead, Edmund returned to Vivian and found that she was dying. He held her head in his lap as she breathed her final breaths. Then Edmund was so heartbroken at the loss of his best friend that he stabbed himself through the heart with her horn and thus they died together as heroes on the field of battle, having saved England from the angry hoard."

"That was beautiful," Sirius said. "Did you just make that up?"

Remus nodded, glad for the low light that meant no one would see him blushing. He often made up little stories during his hours of bedridden boredom, but he never thought they were particularly good. Mostly they were silly things that he was sure no one besides his mother, who always listened to them dutifully, would ever want to hear.

"I can't believe Peter did all this," James said in wonder. "How about that?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "I'll have to do something really nice for him to make it up to him. You think maybe he'd like to be set up with one of the blondes?"

"I don't think he likes girls that much," Remus said, heading back to his bed.

"Hmm. I'll have to think of something," Sirius replied, following Remus out. James took enough time to yawn loudly before following along behind them. The three Marauders climbed into their beds and left the curtains open so they could continue whispering to one another. James and Sirius were still whispering when Remus fell asleep, his eyes dazzled by the glittering stars that gazed down upon him.


	25. James: 24 March, 1972

James: 24 March, 1972

"You really don't want to move there," Sirius told Peter. They were enjoying a few homework-free moments. In the morning, they would all be leaving Hogwarts for their Easter holiday.

Peter chewed on his lip a moment, staring at the chess board. His eyes swept back and forth across the board for long moments before asking, "Why not?"

Sirius leaned forward and moved his queen forward to take Peter's knight. "That's why."

"Dammit!" Peter exclaimed. "I didn't see that."

Sirius leaned forward again and moved his queen back, tossing Peter the knight. "No worries, mate. We'll call it a do-over." Peter reached up to pluck the knight out of the air the way Sirius would have done if their roles were reversed. He missed it by a full six inches. James reached out from his perch on the arm of the sofa and snagged it, handing it back to Peter.

Peter smiled. "Thanks, James." He put the knight back where it had been before he moved it into the path of Sirius' murderous queen.

"So, why did you move there?" James asked.

"Well, I was thinking I could take his castle next move."

"You can take his castle now with your bishop," James explained.

"But then I'll take his bishop with my knight," Sirius pointed out.

Peter sighed. "I really don't think I have a good mind for chess."

"We can play something else if you like," Sirius said carelessly.

"You do realize you can get check right now if you move your queen right there?" Remus interrupted.

Peter's entire face lit up as he smiled and moved his queen.

"No fair. I'm playing him not you," Sirius protested, a teasing smile on his face. "I wouldn't have gone nearly so easy on him if I'd known you were going to tell him what to do." He moved his king to safety and looked at Peter expectantly. Peter turned to look just as expectantly at Remus.

"Don't you dare!" Sirius warned.

Remus gave Peter a small smile. "You heard the man. I'm not allowed to help you anymore."

"Bother," Peter grumbled. He moved his queen forward to check the king once more.

"You don't want to do that," James told him.

"Why not?"

"His castle." James pointed to the offending piece.

"Would you two stop helping him!" Sirius exclaimed.

"No," James said casually. "It's a compulsion. I have to help the underdog."

"Seems to me it's three on one," Sirius said. "That makes me the underdog."

James laughed. "Well, considering you can whip all our arses at this game, I beg to differ."

"Oi!" Remus protested. "He's only managed to beat me twice."

"Move your knight there and you'll have checkmate," James told Peter

"Checkmate!" Peter called triumphantly, following James' instructions.

"Nice one," Sirius said with a smile. James thought it was awfully big of him not to mention that Remus and James had actually won the game.

"I'm going to bed," Remus announced suddenly. The others found they were eager to go to bed as well. They'd been up nearly the whole night the night before trying to figure out if putting Snivelly's hand in warm water would really make him wet the bed. They discovered it would not and had decided to fill his bed with frogs as a consolation prize, but frogs had turned out to be remarkably difficult to come by in Winter, and so they had settled for flooding the common room again, transfiguring a statue of King Arthur sitting on his throne to King Arthur sitting on a toilet to make it look as though he had been the one to flood the common room.

After breakfast the next morning, they all clambered into a compartment in the train, ready to make the most of their final hours before two whole weeks apart. Well, Peter and Remus would be apart. Sirius was coming to Potter Manor, something James was endlessly excited about. Sirius was as well. He had confided to James the day before that, even though he was a little disappointed not to be traveling with his family, he was really glad to be going home with James. He even said he wished he could spend all summer with the Potters. James told him he could if he wanted to, but Sirius shook his head sadly. "I miss my family," he confided in a whisper. "I haven't seen them since September. That's a long time."

James could understand that. He missed his family, too, and he'd only just seen them a few weeks before when they came to Hogwarts to fetch him and his friends and bring them to Potter Manor for the weekend to celebrate James' birthday. It had been a wonderful weekend and, best of all, it had all revolved around James. James best enjoyed things that revolved around him.

As the train approached the station, the Marauders began to look around their compartment, amazed at how thorough a mess they had managed to make of it in a few short hours.

"Ow! Come on, you stupid cat, you have to go in!" James said, trying to push Griselda back into her carrier while avoiding her claws. His arms were already sporting several scratches.

"You shouldn't have let her out in the first place," Peter said.

"Thank you!" James snapped. "That's very helpful! The moment I get a time-turner, I'll be sure to go back and tell myself not to let her out. Come on, Griselda! We're almost there."

Sirius reached over and removed her paws from the side of the carrier where she had put them and helped James stuff her in. He shut the door quickly. Griselda turned in the carrier and began to meow pitifully, reaching her paw through the wires of the door.

"I'm sorry, kitty," James told her. "But it's only for a little while." Her piteous cries did not cease. James looked at his friends. "Do you think if I let her out, she'd behave at the station?"

"No," Sirius said authoritatively.

"But I hate to hear her cry." He turned to her and stuck a finger in the carrier, scratching her head. "Poor kitty," he cooed. "You don't think she'll hold a grudge, do you?"

"She'll forget all about it the second you get her home," Remus offered encouragingly.

"Cats have a brain the size of a walnut," Peter added.

"You have a brain the size of a walnut!" James retorted.

"No," Peter corrected casually. "I have a brain the size of a grapefruit. So have you."

"How do you know that?" Sirius asked.

"It's simple," Peter explained. "Look at James' head and figure up how small something would have to be to fit in there. After that, it's simple comparison."

"Are you saying my brain is small?" James asked defensively.

"No," Peter replied, exasperated. "It's the size of a grapefruit. Everyone's is."

"I don't think I'll ever look at a grapefruit the same way again," Remus said mournfully.

Sirius laughed. "I don't think I will, either. Luckily, I never liked them."

"I did," Remus said sadly.

"Is it odd that I really want some grapefruit now?" James asked.

The others heartily agreed that it was just as the train pulled into King's Cross Station.

The Marauders piled off the train, excited for their holiday.

"Dad!" James called the moment he caught sight of his father. The man was standing next to Remus' parents. The three of them were scanning the platform looking for their children. The moment Harry caught sight of James, he smiled broadly, walking forward to embrace his son. "Where's Mum?" James asked.

"She's at home cooking every dish you've ever liked. Hello, Sirius."

"Hello, sir," Sirius said, holding out a hand politely. "Thank you for letting me spend the holiday with you."

"It's our pleasure," Harry assured him, shaking his hand cordially. "You're welcome any time. Are you ready?"

James looked around and noticed that Remus was being smothered by his mother's affections. Then he searched for Peter and found him still standing by the door of the train, searching the crowd for his parents.

"We should make sure Peter finds his dad," James said. "Hey! Peter!"

Peter looked up and trotted over to where the others stood. "I don't think my dad's here yet," he reported.

"Well, we'll wait with you," Mr. Potter said amicably. "Shall we go and have a seat?"

An hour later, the four of them were the only ones left on the platform. The Lupins had waited with them a long while; but ten minutes before, they'd had to leave. They had family coming and had to go meet their train. They were apologetic about leaving, but James' dad had told them not to worry about it, that he was just fine waiting with Peter.

"My dad forgot me," Peter finally said dully. James thought he was handling it rather well. Were he in Peter's shoes, he would probably be furious with his parents for forgetting him.

"Where do you live?" Harry asked. "I'll take you home."

"I live in Cornwall," Peter groused.

Harry stood resolutely. James and Sirius followed. Peter did not. "Let's go, then."

"You don't have to take me," Peter said glumly. "I'll catch the Knight Bus."

"You will do no such thing," Harry said decisively.

Peter looked up at him. "I don't want you to take me," he said. "I'll go by myself."

James was sure his father was going to argue. He wasn't the sort of man to put a twelve-year-old on the Knight Bus with nothing but a rucksack full of clothes. But the problem was resolved by the timely arrival of a harried-looking woman. "Peter!" she called, arriving on the platform and looking around frantically. Her expression soothed when she saw him. She ran to him. "Oh, thank goodness, Peter. I'm so sorry." She sat next to him on the bench and hugged him. He did not hug her back.

"Where's Dad?" Peter asked, a hard edge in his voice.

The woman sighed. "He's at home with your mother. He wanted to come. He really did."

"He forgot about me, didn't he?" Peter accused.

The woman looked around at Harry, James, and Sirius. "Let's talk about it later," she said, standing to greet James' dad. "I'm Miriam Pettigrew, Peter's aunt."

"No!" Peter protested. "I want to talk about it now! He forgot me, didn't he?"

James' father cleared his throat. "It's really time we were going. It was lovely to meet you, Miss Pettigrew. Come along, gentlemen. Goodbye, Peter."

Peter didn't say goodbye. He was busy glaring at his aunt. James could hear Peter and his aunt arguing as they crossed the barrier. James hardly wanted to think of what his father would do to him if he ever spoke to one of his aunts the way Peter was speaking to Miss Pettigrew. Harry was a stickler for respect and good manners.

By the time they arrived at Potter Manor, Griselda seemed to have given up all hope of every getting out of the carrier. When they opened the door, she looked around tentatively and ducked back inside, protesting loudly at the change in scenery. Gwendolyn was waiting for them the second they stepped out of the floo. After fifteen minutes, James' dad had sent her a patronus, informing her that they would be late so she wouldn't worry.

She attacked James the second he was through the floo and kissed him. "Mum!" he protested, thinking of Sirius standing there watching. He was twelve now, after all. That was far too old for a chap to be smothered in his mother's kisses. Gwendolyn ignored him. Harry laughed. James glared in mock annoyance. He didn't really mind his mother's kisses. If Sirius weren't there, he'd have kissed her back, but he didn't want Sirius to think he was a baby.

When she had finished with James, Gwendolyn moved on to Sirius, hugging him tightly and kissing him as well. Unlike James, he offered no protests. Indeed, he seemed to soak up the affection. Sometime over the Christmas holiday, the two of them had become friends. James wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but he was glad it had. He was glad Sirius had someone to hug and kiss him. If what he said about his family was true, his own mother never did.

James still wasn't quite sure what to make of Sirius' stories. He wanted to believe his friend; he certainly didn't want to believe his best mate would ever lie to him, but he found it difficult to believe that any parents could ever be so cruel to their own child. Still he had seen the letters. He had even seen the scars on his back the day they went swimming in the forest. At the time, he reckoned Sirius must have just fallen or something. But then when he heard that his father had done it, James almost couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting Sirius. He still sometimes wondered if he ought to tell his parents, but he had promised, and James Potter was not a promise breaker. So he kept his silence.

"Dinner's on the table," Gwendolyn reported. James and Sirius didn't need to be told twice. They both dropped their bags where they stood and raced to the dining room.

"Hungry, I take it?" Harry teased as he and Gwendolyn entered the dining room. James nodded emphatically, looking longingly at the feast spread before them. He was so hungry he could have even eaten liverwurst. It seemed he was always hungry these days. He'd go to dinner and eat enough for three people: eat until he was so stuffed he was afraid his friends were going to have to roll him to the common room, but then fifteen minutes later he'd be famished again, as though he hadn't eaten a bite in days.

James piled the food high on his plate and tucked in as though he hadn't had his fill of sweets on the train. Beside him, Sirius tucked in as well. They ate quickly, eager to get outside to play a little quidditch. Not being allowed to fly at school was brutal, and thus far Remus had managed to talk them out of it every time they decided to forget about the rules and do it anyway. It was probably a good thing, though James hated to admit it. Without Remus' clear head, James hated to think of how many hours they'd have spent in detention, or in McGonagall's office getting shouting at.

As soon as their bellies were so full that James wasn't sure he'd be able to get his broomstick off the ground, they ran out the door, not able to wait a second longer before they got into the air.

A week and a half later, James and Sirius stared dejectedly out the window at the pouring rain.

"I'm so bored!" Sirius complained.

"Me, too," James agreed. "I'm too bored to even think of anything to do."

"Is it always this boring at your house?"

James shook his head. It never had been before. Maybe knowing that their holiday was ending and their homework was still hanging over them was part of it. The never-ending rain had probably had something to do with it as well. They'd played more games of chess and gobstones and exploding snap than James even cared to remember. Once or twice they had managed to sneak out to play quidditch in the rain before Gwendolyn came out and told them they'd catch their death flying in the stuff.

"Want to go to Remus' house?" James asked. "Maybe something exciting is happening there."

"I don't think that's a good idea, mate," Sirius said. "Your parents will go mental."

James sighed. "They're a little overprotective."

"I'd noticed," Sirius replied sarcastically. "But at least you know they love you."

James sighed again. "Sometimes I wish they'd love me a little less."

"You don't really mean that."

"No, I don't. I hate that."

"Besides, we don't know where Remus lives."

"He lives in Tinworth. It's not that far. We can be there and back before my mum ever notices we're gone."

Sirius curled his lip as he thought. "Well, I am bored," he allowed.

James grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the broom cupboard where he took out his own broom and his father's. They decided to sneak down the street and take off from there so Gwendolyn wouldn't see.

"But we still don't know where Remus' house is," Sirius suddenly remembered as they tiptoed to the front door. That roadblock only slowed James for a moment.

"We'll use Athena."

"Athena?"

"Our owl. She knows the way to Remus'. She took him his presents at Christmas. She can lead us there."

Sirius smiled wide, congratulating James on his great idea, and they went to rescue Athena.

The rain was colder than James expected it to be, slashing down on them from the heavens. It was a warm day for early April, but still James was shivering within twenty minutes of going outside. It didn't take him long at all to decide this adventure had been a mistake. Part of him wanted to turn around and go back, but he didn't want Sirius to think he was chickening out. He turned to look at Sirius flying along behind him.

"You cold?"

Sirius was shivering, but still he shook his head and shouted, "No, you?"

James was shivering as well. "No," he shouted back, his voice almost lost in the howling wind.

Athena led them to a small brick house on the outskirts of Tinworth. They landed deftly in the back yard, and James started toward the house. Sirius grabbed him. "Wait. We can't just go knock on the door. What if his parents answer? We should go to his window."

James wiped the rain out of his eyes, thankful that his glasses kept out the worst of it. "Which window do you reckon is his?"

"Athena, which window belongs to Remus?"

The owl blinked as if in annoyance and flew toward a window. A moment later, Remus opened it to let her in. Sirius and James mounted their broomsticks and kicked off from the muddy ground. A few minutes later, they were shivering and dripping on Remus carpet as he scolded.

"What were you thinking about coming here? You could have been hurt! You're going to be in so much trouble."

"Dry up, Remus," James ordered. "We wanted to see you. We missed you. Didn't you miss us?"

"Of course I missed you, but I wouldn't have flown to your house. What's going to happen to you when your parents realize you're missing?"

"My parents won't realize I'm missing," Sirius said with a mischievous grin.

"Okay, James' parents then," Remus allowed.

Sirius shrugged. "What can they do to me?"

"Adults can always figure something out," Remus snapped. "They're experts at that sort of thing."

"Do you ever think it's a conspiracy?" Sirius asked suddenly. "That all the adults are out to get all the kids and they sit around having secret meetings about it after we've gone to bed?"

James laughed.

Then Sirius laughed.

Then Remus laughed.

Before they knew it, they were all three rolling around on the ground laughing at nothing in particular until they couldn't breathe . James loved that they did that so often. If only Peter were here too, it would have been perfect.

"You really should go," Remus said when he had caught his breath. "My mum's out shopping, but she could be back any minute."

"We can't fly back in that," Sirius said indignantly, motioning toward the window, where the rain had picked up. "Can't we play a game or something? Just until we catch our breath?"

Remus reluctantly agreed, but one game turned into two, which turned into five. James found that playing chess at Remus' house was much more fun than playing it at Potter Manor. He also found he didn't want to go back out in the rain. "You reckon we should get Peter over here?" James asked suddenly, tossing a piece of bread into his mouth. Remus had brought them sandwiches for lunch when they started getting hungry.

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "We should go get him."

"How are we going to get there?" James asked. "I'm not going back out in the rain."

"Use the floo," Remus said quickly, before clamping both hands over his mouth as though hoping to pull the words back in. "Forget I said that, you have to go home."

"It's boring at home," James said with a shrug. "Come on, Remus. Show us where the floo is. Think how glad Peter will be to see us."

Remus thought about it for a moment, but James already knew he'd be going. "We're going to get into trouble," Remus said with a little pout.

"If we do, we'll tell everyone we dragged you along," Sirius offered.

Remus chewed on his lip for a moment. "I really hate getting in trouble."

"You won't get into trouble," James assured him. "Because we're not going to get caught."

Sirius nodded his agreement.

"All right, but we can't stay long. Come on." Remus led them through the house and to the parlor.

"I like your house, Remus," James said, looking around approvingly. "It's very cozy."

"We used to have a bigger one," Remus said reluctantly. "Before I got sick."

James looked at Sirius. He thought it was high time they asked Remus what was wrong with him. He worried sometimes that whatever it was, it was contagious, and the Marauders should be careful around him. He worried more that whatever it was, it was serious, and Remus was going to waste away. Sirius shook his head sharply, the message clear. Sirius was of the opinion that Remus would tell them about his mystery illness when he wanted to and that it was no one's business until then.

James clamped his mouth shut just as Remus threw some floo powder into the fireplace.

"We don't know Peter's address," Sirius said suddenly.

"Oh, that's a pity. I suppose you'll just have to go home then," Remus said. He didn't look like he thought it was a pity.

"We can't take the floo home," James declared. "We'd be caught for sure."

"I'm tired of flying," Sirius said. If he were anyone else, he'd have been whinging, but Sirius was not the sort of person who whinged. He was the sort of person who registered complaints.

James thought about that for a moment. "Peter said he lives in Cornwall. Maybe it's not raining there."

"I really think you should go home," Remus asserted.

"Come with us to Cornwall," James begged. "Please. We'll follow Athena again. We'll see Peter. Then we'll all come straight back. No one will ever know."

Remus shook his head. "No way."

"But you're smarter than us. What if we get lost or hurt? Do you really want that on your conscience?" Sirius asked.

"Remus, we need you," James said, doing his best impersonation of Sirius' puppy dog eyes.

"You two are going to get me killed one of these days," Remus said with a sigh. A few minutes later he was in a traveling cloak and had gloves and a broomstick.

"Traveling cloak! Why didn't we think of that, Sirius?"

"Because we're stupid, stupid men, which is why we need Remus so badly."

"I might have an extra," Remus offered. "And one of you can borrow my dad's."

The trip to Cornwall was much longer than the trip to Tinworth had been, but the traveling cloaks and gloves made a big difference. This trip wasn't nearly so miserable. Indeed, James found he liked flying in the rain. It made sense; he'd always enjoyed playing in the rain provided it wasn't too cold. He'd never once met a mud puddle he couldn't conquer. His mother sometimes complained that she couldn't understand how it was even physically possible for a child to get as dirty as James did.

This time they had Athena fly straight to Peter's window, and so they were able to fly straight to it as well. Sirius tapped on the window. Peter's face appeared, his eyes wide. He opened the window. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"We came to say hello," Sirius explained.

"Well, you have to leave," Peter said quickly. He closed the window. Sirius and James shared a look of purest confusion with one another.

"Why isn't he happy to see us?" James asked. He couldn't imagine anyone not being happy to see him, except perhaps Snape. But that was only because Snape was a git.

Sirius tapped on the window again.

"I told you, you have to go. I'll see you Sunday. Good bye."

"Wait just a minute," Sirius said indignantly. "We just flew all the way here from Godric's Hollow. The least you could do is offer us some tea or let us come in to dry off or something."

Just then a woman appeared behind Peter. James recognized her after a moment as Peter's aunt.

She screamed and dropped the clothes she was carrying. "What in the world?" she asked.

"We came by to say hello," Sirius explained.

Miss Pettigrew approached the window and opened it wide, letting the boys come inside. "You're soaked," she observed. "Let me get you a towel."

"No need," James assured her. As one, the three wet Marauders did the complicated wand trick Harry had taught them last term and began drying their own robes.

"That's not easy magic," Miss Pettigrew said approvingly.

Another woman appeared suddenly at the door. This woman had short wispy hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed in ages. Her face was deeply lined, and James could see why. She was furrowing her brow so deeply that James was surprised her grapefruit-sized brain wasn't leaking out her ears.

"Damn it all," Miss Pettigrew sighed. She went to the woman's side. "Come on, Delilah. Let's get you in bed."

The woman pointed at the Marauders and whispered, "vampires," before beginning to scream.

"Peter's mother's having a bad day," Miss Pettigrew said apologetically as she ushered the screaming woman out of the room, assuring her that the Marauders were not vampires and would not be killing Peter. Judging from Peter's mother's screams, she didn't believe it.

"Merlin's beard, Peter," Sirius exclaimed.

"That's your mother?" James asked.

"I think we should go," Remus said suddenly. He grabbed his broomstick and put on his cloak.

"Why was your mother screaming like that?" James asked.

"Get out," Peter said softly.

"Why? Peter?" Sirius asked, his confusion showing in his face. "We don't care."

"I said get out!" Peter screamed. It happened so abruptly that James jumped. Peter had never screamed at them before. Next thing James knew, he, Sirius, and Remus being pushed out the door and down the hall. They were all so surprised they didn't even fight back. James opened the front door to keep from being slammed into it.

"Peter, we just wanted to-" Sirius tried to explain, but Peter cut him off.

"You shouldn't have come here. Just leave! And never come back here! You hear me? Never come back here!"

He gave them all a final push out the door and off the front porch. They landed in a muddy heap. James was thankful for the rain for the first time because it meant at least their landing was soft. Peter slammed the front door.

"Merlin's beard," Sirius whispered, clambering to get off James and Remus. James had found himself at the bottom of the heap.

"Remus, did you know his mum was like that?" James asked as they stood forlornly on Peter's lawn.

Remus gave a small, terse nod. "I knew. He said she's been like that since he was five."

"Since he was five?" James repeated. He could hardly imagine such a thing.

"His aunt takes care of him mostly, and his dad takes care of his mum."

"Poor Peter," Sirius moaned. James couldn't help but agree.

"We should go," Remus said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Do you think he'll forgive us?" James asked. He hated the thought of his little friend being cross with him for long.

"I think he will," Sirius said. "I mean, we didn't mean anything by it. How were we supposed to know?"

James had no answer for that, so he mounted his broom and, with a heavy heart, began the trip back to Tinworth to take Remus home.


	26. Sirius: 5 April, 1972

Sirius: 5 April, 1972

Sirius was almost jealous of James. His inability to understand French meant he couldn't make heads or tales of Mrs. Lupin's yelling. Sirius sneaked a sidelong glance at him. He was doing a decent job of faking it, hanging his head and looking grave. Next Sirius sneaked a glance at Remus. He was hanging his head as well, his eyes swimming with tears.

"Non, maman. Je suis desolé!"

"C'est pas sa faute," Sirius said, coming to Remus' rescue. He hoped. It was the first chance he'd had to get a word in edgewise. Mrs. Lupin certainly knew how to yell. Almost as though she had read his mind, she leveled a glare at him that would have put his own mother to shame. Maybe that wasn't exactly true, but any glare was pretty awful when he was on the receiving end of it.

"Comment?" Mrs. Lupin asked. She raised one eyebrow. Her expression was so much like Remus' it was uncanny. Sirius had to force himself not to laugh. He was quite sure mirth would do nothing to help them out of their current predicament.

"We made him do it. James and I. It was our fault," Sirius explained in French. "Please don't be angry with him."

"Did you kidnap him?" Mrs. Lupin asked, her eyes sharp.

"No."

"Did you threaten him?"

"No, but-"

"Did you somehow force him onto his broomstick at wandpoint?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then I fail to see how it wasn't his fault."

Sirius turned to James to shrug, but he still stood there with a blank expression. Sirius almost forgot he'd been speaking French.

"Thanks for trying," Remus whispered.

Mrs. Lupin ordered Remus to his room.

"It wasn't his fault," James asserted as Remus started for the door, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.

"Yes, Sirius already tried to explain that to me."

"I have got to learn French," James muttered.

"You should learn French," Sirius agreed. "Girls love it."

Mrs. Lupin cleared her throat loudly.

"So, we'll just be going then?" Sirius asked, smiling hopefully at Mrs. Lupin.

She shook her head. "I'll be taking you home."

"I was afraid of that," James said with a sigh."Any chance you'd reconsider?"

Mrs. Lupin shook her head and propelled James and Sirius toward the floo. She sent them through, following directly after them.

"How angry do you think your parents will be, on a scale of one to ten?" Sirius asked uncomfortably as they walked.

"Nine," James whispered back. "The last time I stole Dad's broomstick, he slippered me."

Sirius didn't like the sound of that, but surely it wouldn't be as bad as his father's cane. In any event, he had very little time to think about it because a moment later, he was stepping out of the fireplace in the parlor of Potter Manor. Mrs. Potter was sitting on the sofa, her face pinched with worry. She looked half panicked.

The moment she saw Sirius and James, her entire countenance softened with relief.

"Harry! They're back!" she called.

A moment later, Mr. Potter appeared. Both of them rushed toward James and Sirius. Sirius braced himself for a blow, but it never came. Next thing he knew, he was being pulled into Mrs. Potter's arms and squeezed tightly.

"We were so worried about you," she cried, tears in her voice. A moment later, they traded places, and Sirius' nose was suddenly full of Mr. Potter's aftershave. A light, woody, manly, safe sort of smell. Like Autumn leaves just waiting to be jumped in or freshly made mud pies or grasshoppers in your hand. Not like Orion's cologne, which was heavy and musky and stung Sirius' nose.

Mr. Potter pulled Sirius to arms' length. "What were you two thinking about?"

James looked at Sirius. Sirius sighed. Why did he always have to be the one to get everyone out of trouble? Just once, he wished one of his friends would swoop in and save _his_ arse.

"It was my fault, Mum and Dad," James said. "It was my idea. Sirius didn't want to do it, but I talked him into it."

Ask and you shall receive.

Sirius suppressed a small smile. He doubted James' claim would get him out of trouble, but he appreciated the effort. James seemed to do that a lot. He told Sirius once that he'd rather be in trouble alone than watch his friends suffer. Sirius felt a little surge of affection for his friend. People who cared about him enough to try to keep him out of trouble were a precious commodity in his life. People who would lie for him were far more precious still.

"Thank you for bringing them home, Charlotte," Mr. Potter said, shaking Mrs. Lupin's hand. Mrs. Lupin gave a friendly nod, wished them a good evening, and disappeared through the floo. Even angry, Mr. Potter was calm and polite. Orion would have begun raging already, sending everyone nearby scurrying for cover. Mr. Potter's calmness made Sirius nervous. The times when Orion went deathly calm were always the worst. Sirius' heart began to beat very quickly in his chest. He suddenly felt he might sick up. He closed his eyes and tried to will the fear away, telling himself over and over again that Mr. Potter wasn't going to hurt him. Mr. Potter would never do that.

Still, his anger was evident on his face when he turned back toward the boys. More anger than Sirius had ever seen in his usually-congenial expression. Gone was the concern. His features were now hard. Determined. Resolute. Sirius didn't like it. James didn't look like he was enjoying it very much, either.

"Explain yourselves," Mr. Potter snapped. Sirius closed his eyes, waiting for Mr. Potter to grab James and hit him, or grab Sirius and fling him into the floor.

"We only wanted to see Remus and Peter," James explained. He didn't look as though he was the slightest bit nervous. Sirius couldn't tell if he was brave or idiotic. It wasn't the first time Sirius had had reason to wonder about such a thing.

"And what in the world would possess you to try to fly there?" Mr. Potter demanded. "If you wanted to see them, your mother or I would have gladly arranged it."

James shrugged. "We were bored."

"Bored?" Mr. Potter repeated. "You decided it would be a good idea to risk your lives because you were bored?"

Sirius bit his lip, looking down at the ground. He forced himself to breathe evenly, telling himself there was nothing to be frightened of, repeating the words time and again in his head. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he was sure the Potters could hear it. Against his will, his limbs began to tremble.

"We weren't risking our lives, Dad," James argued. "We're both really good fliers." He smiled self-assuredly, running a hand through his hair.

"I see, and it never occurred to you that you might get lost, or lose track of time, or have an accident? This is not a game, boys, so you can just wipe that smile right off your face. Either one of you could have fallen or hit something."

"Harry," Mrs. Potter said softly. She was looking straight at Sirius, who quickly looked away. He didn't want her to know he was such a coward, so scared over what was sure to be nothing more than a scolding. Although his brain knew that, his body couldn't seem to catch up, somehow. All his muscles tensed against his will, preparing for injuries that would never come. He couldn't have moved if he'd had to. His eyes found a spider on the carpet and followed it meticulously, thankful for something to do.

"But we didn't," James insisted, exasperated.

"Do not interrupt me!" Mr. Potter snapped.

"But Dad," James protested. "We weren't hurt. We're fine."

"Harry," Mrs. Potter said with a little more urgency. Mr. Potter ignored her.

"That is not the point!" he shouted. It was the first time Sirius had ever heard him shout. He jumped at the suddenness of it, whipping his head up to study the man's face. James glared at his father, who took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was stern, but calm. "Both of you go to your rooms. I'll call you down when you've come to your senses, and we'll discuss your punishment." James' smile faded.

"But Dad-"

"Go now!" Mr. Potter roared.

James rushed to obey. Sirius stood rooted to the spot, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He didn't move until James nearly pulled him over, trying to get him out of the parlor. The moment they reached the top of the stairs, Griselda appeared. She seemed to have a sixth sense for when James was upset. He picked her up and turned toward Sirius, his calm expression almost masking the worry he couldn't quite keep out of his eyes. "Don't worry. He won't stay angry long. He never does."

Sirius shrugged, arranging his face into a fearless smirk that belied the churning in his stomach. He couldn't understand it; he didn't care about getting into trouble at school. He had never cared about getting into trouble at home, so long as it wasn't enough trouble for his father to decide to do something about it. But when it was Mr. or Mrs. Potter who was upset with him, suddenly he felt about three inches tall.

"See you in a few," James said with a wink. He shut his bedroom door, leaving Sirius standing alone in the doorway.

"I have half a mind to go up there and give him a right good spanking," Mr. Potter's voice wafted up the stairs. Sirius stiffened. He shouldn't have been listening, but he couldn't seem to make his feet move. At least this way, he'd know what was coming, although he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. He usually preferred to be surprised, which was convenient because his parents preferred to ambush him. If he knew what was coming, he tended to get scared, which made it harder to be stoic. He was still busy telling himself with all his might that Mr. Potter wouldn't hit him, but the fear lingered in the back of his mind. He hated the thought of Mr. Potter being angry enough with him to smack him, although he knew he probably deserved it. He never should have let James talk him into such a stupid idea.

"Harry, that's not really necessary, is it?" Mrs. Potter asked, sadness in her tone.

"Might do him some good," Mr. Potter muttered.

"Shit," Sirius whispered, sitting down hard on the top step.

"But I'm not going to," Mr. Potter continued. "Whatever we do, we have to do it to the both of them, and I'm not willing to spank Sirius. Lord knows what the poor lad's parents have put him through. Did I tell you that I did some asking around at the hospital, and he's been treated for injuries more times than I care to even think about? Either he's the most accident-prone child in the world, or Mr. Black's even more of a monster than I thought."

Sirius' breath caught in his throat.

"That poor child," Mrs. Potter said sadly. "He was terrified when you were yelling. He was shaking like a leaf."

"Oh, no. I didn't mean to scare him. It's just... we've got to figure out how to teach James some respect. I've been hoping Sirius would rub off on him a bit. He's always so polite. I do hope he wasn't too frightened."

"Can't we do something for him?"

Mr. Potter did not reply for a long time. Sirius wasn't sure what he wanted the man to say. Maybe he could take Sirius away from his parents, and he could move into Potter Manor forever. Being James' brother would be brilliant. Sirius almost smiled thinking about it, but caught himself after a fraction of a second. Regulus needed him. Besides, the thought of never seeing his parents again worried him; he loved them, after all. He had begun to really miss them after Christmas, when everyone else came back to school talking about how wonderful it had been to go home and see their parents over the holidays.

They had done many kind things for him when he was younger. Once, when he was five, he got so sick with dragon pox they were afraid he was going to die. He spent two days in St. Mungo's, and his mother sat with him the whole time, holding his hand and mopping his forehead. They took him on brilliant holidays to places like New York and Capri. He had gone with them to see Victoria Falls and the Eiffel Tower. Suddenly, Sirius' throat was tightening.

"No, we can't do anything," Mr. Potter replied with a sigh. "Even if I were to try, no one would ever take on Orion Black. He's untouchable. The best we can do is make sure he knows he's always welcome here. And safe."

"The poor dear," Mrs. Potter murmured. Sirius' insides tightened. He hated the thought of Mrs. Potter being upset on his account. The conversation turned toward the matter at hand: James and Sirius' punishment. Sirius listened carefully as they discussed.

"I think our best option is to give them chores," Mr. Potter announced after the discussion had gone on a few minutes.

"And ground them from their broomsticks," Mrs. Potter continued.

"I think that goes without saying. But if James argues with me again, I very well may spank him."

"What about Sirius? Don't you think it would bother him?"

"I'll set a silencing charm. He'd never know. Unless James told him."

"James won't argue with you again. He always calms down quickly."

"I'm not so sure about that. He's been awfully cheeky lately."

"Don't you remember how it was when we first went to Hogwarts? We imagined ourselves quite grown. He's going through the same thing now." There was a certain fondness in Mrs. Potter's tone that sent Sirius' heart beating rapidly again, this time with envy. Even when James was being a total prat, his parents adored him.

Mr. Potter sighed audibly. "Let's get them down here then."

Sirius rose quickly and ran on tiptoes to his room. He arrived just in time for Mr. Potter's call. "James and Sirius, front and center!"

Sirius took a deep breath and exited his room. James met him in the hallway, wearing a careless smirk. "I've been thinking," he said. "I don't think we have much to worry about. They're not going to come down on you too hard, because you're a guest."

Sirius didn't answer. His being a guest had nothing to do with it. They had discovered his secret, and they couldn't help him. No one could.

When they came downstairs, Mr. and Mrs. Potter both wore stern expressions on their face.

"James Michael and Sirius... what's your middle name, son?"

"Pollux," Sirius replied glumly, bracing himself for its use. He wished Mr. Potter would just stick with "son". He liked being called that, especially by Mr. Potter.

"That's an interesting middle name," Mrs. Potter said.

"I'm named after my grandfather. I hate it, though."

"Why?"

"It sounds like bollocks."

James snorted with laughter.

"You see! The jokes practically make themselves. Usually I tell people it's Alphard. When I'm old enough, I'm going to change it to that."

"That's neither here nor there," Mr. Potter declared, reclaiming control of the conversation. "James Michael and Sirius... Alphard, I am very disappointed in you both. What you did was dangerous and reckless. Anything in the world could have happened to you. You have been hurt, or even killed. You could have been seen by muggles. You two have to think about things before you do them. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," James said, doing an impressive imitation of a person who had learned his lesson. Sirius knew better.

"Yes, sir," Sirius repeated.

"You're both grounded," Mrs. Potter continued. "No more broomsticks for the rest of your stay."

James' head shot up, all his guilty posturing gone. "But Mum, that's not fair!"

Sirius tried to get his attention to tell him to shut up. He didn't want his friend to get a smacking. James continued on, oblivious to the danger he was putting himself into.

"We need all the flying practice we can get if we're going to make the quidditch team. We've already lost a week because you went mental over a little rain!"

"James Michael!" Mr. Potter scolded. "I know you did not just shout at your mother."

James paled, looking truly contrite for the first time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Mr. Potter's mouth was a thin line. "Come with me."

"No, Dad! I said I was sorry. I didn't mean it! I swear! I'll never do it again."

"This is not optional, James Michael."

"Harry, must you?" Mrs. Potter asked.

Mr. Potter turned to her. "I will not have him shouting at you." He didn't sound angry to Sirius, only resolute. He turned his gaze on his son. "Come with me, James."

James stood his ground, shaking his head. "I'm sorry!" he repeated one final time. Mr. Potter went to him and took him by the scruff of the neck, leading him onward. James went silent and allowed himself to be led away. Mrs. Potter stared after them long after they heard the door to James' room shut.

"What's Mr. Potter going to do to him?" Sirius asked, although he already knew the answer. He hated to think of James getting a smacking.

Mrs. Potter gave him a little smile. "Probably just give him a talking-to," she said.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Potter. We didn't mean to worry you."

Mrs. Potter hugged him. Sirius buried his head in her chest, soaking up the affection. "I know you didn't," she said. "But it was very dangerous, what you did."

Sirius nodded his understanding. "It won't happen again," he told her.

"I believe you," she said, the small smile appearing again. "Come on. Would you like to help me make some biscuits?" Sirius followed her to the kitchen.

It was a long time before Mr. Potter came and joined them, looking very sad. He walked into the kitchen as Sirius was stirring the batter and kissed his wife.

"You're a good father," she told him.

He gave a small nod. "Thank you. I don't think Jamie would agree with you at the moment."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Doesn't make it any less true. And the fact that you feel so guilty after punishing him just proves it."

Sirius stopped stirring and tried to be invisible. He wasn't successful at it for long. After a moment, Mr. Potter came and joined him at the little table.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Sirius told him, forcing himself to meet the man's eyes. They looked just like James' had looked the night he found Sirius and Lily laughing in the common room, like all the sadness in the world had pooled inside of them. Sirius looked away. "Please don't be angry," he said.

"I'm not angry," Mr. Potter told him. "I was, but I'm not anymore." He reached over and put a finger under Sirius' chin. "You and James are both going to spend the rest of your visit doing chores."

"Yes, sir," Sirius said softly.

Mr. Potter's eyes searched Sirius'. "I care about you very much, Sirius. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Sirius smiled a little despite himself. "We won't do it again. I promise."

Mr. Potter returned his bleak smile. "I'm trusting you to keep that promise."

He let go of Sirius' chin, and put a hand on top of Sirius' hand, patting it gently. "We were very worried about you."

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered, letting his head fall. He began to study his own lap.

Mr. Potter squeezed his hand. "I forgive you." Sirius jerked his head up and met Mr. Potter's eyes. His parents had never once told him he was forgiven; they held grudges, ready to point out his transgressions years later if the opportunity arose. "And we don't need to talk about it anymore," Mr. Potter continued, oblivious to the fact that Sirius was feeling so overwhelmed he thought he might cry. "Unless you want to."

Sirius' eyes began to burn. A single tear escaped. Mr. Potter squeezed his hand again. "Now, what are the tears about?" he asked softly. Sirius shrugged as Mrs. Potter came over to put an arm around him.

"Nothing," Sirius mumbled. "I just feel bad for worrying you. You've been so nice to me, and then I go and scare you."

"We told you, you don't need to dwell on it any longer. We forgive you."

Sirius nodded, more tears escaping. Yes, they forgave him, and that was the problem. He didn't deserve their forgiveness. He could hardly abide their disappointment. And now they were both trying to comfort him. He sniffed the tears away, telling himself that he was far too old to be crying over something so silly. He never cried like this at home. But he never felt this guilty at home. Mrs. Potter kissed the top of his head.

"What kind of biscuits are you making?" Mr. Potter asked, peeking into the bowl of batter.

"Chocolate," Sirius reported, burying himself in the stirring to take his mind off how awful he felt.

"James' favorite?" Mr. Potter asked slyly, looking up at Mrs. Potter.

"What else?" she asked.

He gave a small laugh. "You spoil him."

"It's his god-given right as a child to be spoiled rotten." She gave Sirius another small squeeze and a kiss before returning to the stove and her dinner preparations.

"Making his favorite meal as well?" Mr. Potter asked.

"Naturally."

Mr. Potter reached over to pat Sirius' arm. "Feeling better?" he asked softly.

Sirius nodded. "May I go talk to James?"

"If you like," Mr. Potter replied. "But don't be upset if he doesn't want to talk to you. He was pretty angry."

"He gets his temper from you, you know," Mrs. Potter teased.

"Liar," Mr. Potter accused. "He gets it from my sister. Don't you remember her throwing a plate at my head?"

"You sort of deserved it, Harry. You went to her wedding dressed like a clown."

"Well, the man she married is such a clown, I was afraid he'd be lonely if he was the only clown there. Admit it. You thought it was funny."

"Yes, but I wouldn't have thought it was funny if it had happened at my wedding. I probably would have thrown a plate at your head, too."

Mr. Potter spun her around. "You would never throw a plate at my head."

Mrs. Potter giggled before forcing sternness into her face. "Don't bank on it, Harry David Potter. I can be awfully feisty when I put my mind to it."

Sirius decided to leave before they started snogging. He enjoyed it himself, but he wasn't particularly interested in seeing people as old and... parental... as the Potters doing it. Using all his powers of sneaking, he tiptoed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to James' room. He knocked quietly. James didn't answer. Sirius opened the door and peeked in. James was lying in his bed staring stonily at the ceiling.

"May I come in?"

James turned to glance at him. "Yeah."

Sirius entered, closing the door softly behind him, and sat carefully on James' bed.

"I lost my broomstick for half the summer. I'll never make the quidditch team now."

"Did he smack you?"

James let out a hollow laugh. "No. He said he was going to, but then he changed his mind. He says I'm too old. I almost wish he had. That would have been much better than this."

"You'll still make the quidditch team. You're really good. You've got natural talent."

"No, I won't. I need to practice to make the team. Everyone else who wants to try out will be practicing. There will never be another chance like next year. All three chasers and the keeper are graduating. All those spots will be open. Who knows when they'll be open again. If they're filled with second years, or even third years, I'll never get another chance. This is a disaster! I hate my dad."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do!" James insisted. "And I told him so."

So that was why he was so sad.

"And we have to do chores for the rest of the holiday. What sort of a holiday is it if you have to do chores?"

Sirius thought they'd got off light, really. There were only three more days of the holiday, after all. Three days would go by quickly.

"It isn't fair!" James complained. "Why do they always do this to me?"

"I don't know," Sirius replied.

James propped himself up on an elbow. "Hey, what was Mrs. Lupin saying when she was screaming in French?"

"Mostly parent stuff. What were you thinking? You could have been killed. You're in so much trouble. That sort of thing."

"Is she going to punish Remus?"

Sirius nodded.

"Damn. And he didn't even want to go."

"Yeah. We'll have to figure out a way to make it up to him when we get back to Hogwarts."

James flopped back onto his pillow. "When I have kids, I'm going to let them do anything they want, and I'm never going to punish them."

"Me, too," Sirius agreed just as there was another knock at the door. It was Mrs. Potter with a plate of biscuits and three cups of tea.

"I'm not hungry," James said, turning away from the door.

"Are you sure? I made your favorite, and they're still warm."

"No!"

"More for Sirius and me, then," Mrs. Potter replied.

Sirius had only had two bites when James turned back toward him and Mrs. Potter. "I suppose I could have one."

Three biscuits later, James had cheered considerably, though he was still decidedly glum. "You shouldn't be angry with your father, Love. He only reacted like that because he was scared. We were worried something had happened to you. We were about to call the aurors to come search for you."

"Aurors?" James asked. "That would have been wicked!"

"No, that most certainly would not have been wicked," Mrs. Potter scolded. "Imagine having to explain to the aurors that you pulled them away from chasing dark wizards because you wanted to go visit your friend in Tinworth."

"That might not have been so wicked," James conceded.

Mrs. Potter patted James' leg. "You should go talk to your dad."

"I don't want to."

"You'll feel better once you do. And besides, dinner's almost ready. You don't want to sit through dinner not speaking to anyone, do you?"

"No, I guess not," James answered forlornly. He dragged himself out of the bed and trudged out the door with the air of a man on his way to his own execution.

Mrs. Potter shook her head. "Those two are going to be the death of me one of these days," she confided in Sirius. "They're the two most stubborn people I know."

"You should meet Lily Evans."

"Isn't she that girl James fancies?"

Sirius nodded. "I think he gave up on her, though. She sort of hates him. He accidentally made her go bald, and she held a grudge."

"He made her go bald? Do I even want to hear this story?"

"He didn't do it on purpose. He was trying to help her."

Sirius told the whole story. Mrs. Potter listened intently. His parents never acted interested in anything he had to say, but Mrs. Potter behaved as though listening to his story was the most important thing in the world. When he had finished, she reached out to muss his hair. "That was very nice of you to try to grow her hair back. You're such sweet boys. Come on, I need to go check on dinner. Would you like to help me?"

Sirius nodded, surprised by how much he had come to enjoy spending time with Mrs. Potter. He followed her down the stairs and found James and Mr. Potter chatting amicably in the kitchen as though nothing had happened. James looked up and smiled at Sirius and Mrs. Potter when they came in. "I stirred the sauce," he announced proudly. "It was starting to burn."

Mrs. Potter crossed to the stove quickly. "It looks fine," she reported. She turned back to James with a smile. "You saved dinner."

James smiled wider. "Since I saved dinner, and I'm all forgiven now, can we just forget about all the chores and grounding and everything?" he asked hopefully.

Mr. Potter gave a small laugh, and pulled James into an embrace. "Nice try, son. But no."


	27. Peter: 9 April, 1972

Peter: 9 April, 1972

"Do I have to go back?" Peter asked. "Can't I just stay here? You could teach me magic. Or Aunt Miriam. I could help you take care of Mum. Please don't make me go back."

Emory sighed. "What happened, Pete? Two weeks ago you couldn't stop talking about how much you loved Hogwarts and all about those friends of yours. What do you call yourselves?"

"The Marauders."

"Yes, that was it. Now, all of sudden, you want to stay here? I don't understand it?"

It wasn't that difficult to understand, really, though Peter didn't want to have to explain it. He couldn't bear to face them. Not now that they knew. His face flushed hot just thinking about what James and Sirius would say. They would make awful fun of him; he was sure of it.

"I didn't realize how much I missed you until I saw you again."

"Well, we're already ten days into April. You're coming home again July first. That's less than three months." He pulled out his pocket watch and did some quick math his fingers. "It's twelve weeks. And I'll be better about writing you this term. I'll write you every week. Your mum, too. So, you can count it by letters. Twelve letters, and it'll be time for you to come home."

"You'll really write to me?" Peter asked hopefully.

"I promise," Emory told him with a smile.

That cheered Peter up for a moment, the thought of finally having letters from home to show off to his friends.

His friends.

His smile faded as quickly as it had come. "I still don't want to go back."

"Sorry, Pete. There's not much to be done for it. Education is important, and neither Aunt Miriam nor I could ever give you as complete an education as you'd get at Hogwarts."

"But Dad!"

"No more buts, Peter. Once you're there, you'll be glad for it. You'll see all your friends again and get involved in your lessons, and you'll wonder how it was that you ever wanted to stay in this boring old place."

"Emory!" Delilah called.

"Coming, Delilah," he called back over his shoulder. He turned back to Peter, walking backward toward the door as he spoke. "You finish packing. We need to leave in an hour if we're going to be at the train on time."

Peter sometimes thought clocks were out to get him. Whenever he was about something fun, or was facing down something he was dreading, and wanted the time to pass slowly, it sprinted by, barely giving him a moment's rest as it charged onward; but whenever he was in the midst of something boring and wanted time to go by quickly, or was looking forward to something soon to come, the time always plodded along as though nothing at all important might be waiting for it. Peter could have sworn he actually saw a clock hand move backward during a detention a few months before.

As always, James and Sirius had spent most of it passing notes to each other instead of writing their lines. Somehow they never got caught, but the second Peter tried to join in, his note would be seen and confiscated, and he'd end up with more lines for his trouble. Even his attempt to inform McGonagall that James and Sirius had been passing notes as well failed, after Sirius looked at her with his too-innocent expression and swore they weren't, and she bought it, just as she always did. Peter really couldn't understand why the faculty refused to get wise about James and Sirius.

"You need to learn stealth," Sirius had told him casually when he complained about it. "You also need to stop ratting on the rest of us every time you get caught, or I'm going to start hexing you every time you do it."

Sirius was such a wanker. Peter had explained to them time and again that he panicked, but they kept blaming him, pointing to Remus, who worried about getting into trouble even more than Peter did, yet never once gave away his friends. His ex-friends, Peter reminded himself. How could they be his friends if he was never going to speak to them again?

An hour usually seemed to Peter an impossibly long time. Today, just to spite him, the seconds ticked by a ten times their normal pace, and it seemed only a few minutes had gone by before Emory was back, hurrying him along because it was past time for them to go.

Platform 9¾ bustled with activity, though not as much as at the start of the term, or even at Christmas. Nearly all the older students stayed at Hogwarts during the Easter holiday, hoping to catch up on their studies. When Peter arrived, he looked around for the Marauders, and found them quickly, motioning to him from a window.

"Peter! We saved you a seat!" Sirius called. "Hurry up! We were starting to think you weren't going to make it!"

As if to prove his point, the train whistled importantly.

"Looks like your friends have been missing you."

Peter shrugged.

"Have a good term. I'll see you first of July. Study hard, and follow the rules, yeah?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed. It would be much easier now that the Marauders wouldn't be able to talk him into sneaking out every other night.

"Bye then."

"Bye," Peter mumbled, grabbing his rucksack. He hopped onto the train just as it began to move and headed in the opposite direction from the rest of the Marauders. He could hardly believe they were acting as though nothing had happened.

Peter quickly discovered that, without the Marauders, he had no friends. He ducked into a compartment with the first familiar faces he saw: Lily and Severus. "Erm, do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Yes, we mind," Severus snapped.

"Sev!" Lily scolded. "It's okay, Peter, you can stay here if you want."

Peter wasn't going to stay where he wasn't wanted. "Never mind. I'll find somewhere else." He wondered what James would think if he knew Lily and Severus were sharing a compartment. Maybe he should tell him. That would at least offer up a little bit of fun. The predictability of James' temper made him surprisingly easy to manipulate for Peter's own amusement. Lately, the mere mention of Severus coming within a hundred yards of Lily would send him into orbit.

"Peter! Oi! Peter!" He heard James running up behind him. Coming to take the mickey out of him, no doubt. Peter turned away and hurried down the corridor.

"Peter! What are you doing?"

It didn't take long for James to catch up, but Peter resolutely ignored him, his eyes on the ground. A moment later, James was in front of him, a grin on his face, forcing Peter to a halt.

"Get out of my way, James," Peter hissed.

James' face fell, forming a mask of confusion. "What is with you?"

"I don't want to sit with you."

The confusion deepened. "Why not?"

"Because you're not my friends anymore."

Peter pushed past James and continued down the corridor. He didn't get far before his rucksack caught. He turned to see James holding onto it.

"What do you mean we're not your friends anymore?" James asked, hurt etched across his features. Peter never reckoned they would have cared much. It made him feel a little better to know his departure was affecting James at least. Then it made him feel powerful. Peter had never before had enough power to hurt anyone. He found he almost liked the sorrow in James' eyes. It served him right, anyway.

"I mean you're not my friends anymore. It's pretty straightforward."

"Is this about what happened Wednesday?"

"Come to make fun of me, then?"

"No, of course not! I came out here because I thought maybe you didn't see where we were. We saved you a seat. I would never make fun of your mother. I'm really sorry she's sick."

"Yeah, well," Peter mumbled, not sure what else to say.

"You really thought we'd make fun of you for that?"

"You always make fun of me. And Sirius. Both of you."

James ran his fingers through his hair. It had developed into quite a habit for him. "We were only teasing. We tease each other all the time. Remus, too. We never knew it bothered you."

"Well, it does," Peter spat. "You're worse with me. You're always picking on me, and you never act like you want me around, and Sirius threatens to hex me. I don't want friends like that. I'll find new friends. Better friends. Now, if you'll please excuse me."

Peter stomped off, leaving James standing in the corridor scratching his head. He found Michael and Dirk sitting in a compartment with a boy from Hufflepuff and joined them. None of the Marauders even came to check on him, or try to talk him into coming to sit with them. He wondered if they even missed him. He also found himself thinking about how much more fun he'd probably be having in their compartment. This Hufflepuff chap was dry as a desert. James and Sirius may have been gits, but at least they were funny gits. So long as they didn't decide to direct their git-ness at Peter, which they usually did. No, Peter reminded himself. He was much better off without them.

He'd stay friends with Remus, he decided. Remus was nice to him, unless he was following James and Sirius' lead. That was probably what had happened when they came to his house. James and Sirius had probably decided to come and twisted Remus' arm until he came, too. That was how it usually worked. If Peter was smart about it, he might even be able to convince Remus he was better off without James and Sirius.

He was certainly less likely to get into trouble. That was another problem with James and Sirius. They never thought about anyone else. They just ordered everyone around for their own purposes. "Be the look-out, Peter." "Stop giving us away, Peter." "Give us the cloak, Peter." "Shut up, Peter." "Stand here, Peter." "Find some flobberworms, Peter." "Do that again and I'll hex you, Peter." They treated him like a ruddy house elf, was what they did. And he'd had quite enough of it, thank you very much.

Peter sighed and watched the countryside pass. Near London, the first of the Spring flowers were coming out: fields of yellows and reds. Peter wished he could have got off the train and gone to lay in the fields of flowers. He had never really done such a thing, and probably would have grown bored with it very quickly, but surely it would be better than the constant droning of The Hufflepuff Who Never Shuts Up.

By the time they reached Hogsmeade, the flowers had faded into dried, brown grass and skeletal trees. Spring had not yet made it to Scotland. The Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt not a second too soon for Peter. If he had to listen to one more second of that damned Hufflepuff - his name was Cole, Peter had learned - he thought he might stab his own eardrums.

Peter climbed off the train just in time to see the Marauders disappear into a horseless carriage without looking back. Peter forced his way into a different carriage, alongside two of the Blondes.

"Hello, ladies," he said in an imitation of Sirius' deep-voiced greeting.

"Hello," Gretchen Wilson said, looking at Peter like he was a speck of dried-on broccoli on her fork. As though his presence was defiling her carriage. Peter had never liked the Blondes. Lesley wasn't even all that blonde anymore. Her hair had darkened since September.

"Don't you run around with Sirius Black?" Lesley asked.

"Yeah. Did you change your hair?"

Lesley touched it self-consciously. "No, why?"

"It just seems darker than it used to be, that's all."

Lesley made a face. "My mum says it's going to be brown. She said hers changed all of a sudden when she was about my age. It's weird, though. It's always been blonde. Now I look in the mirror, and I don't recognize myself."

"I think it's pretty," Peter told her. "I've always thought brown hair was the prettiest."

Lesley smiled. "Thanks. So, you do hang around Sirius, then?"

Peter nodded. "Sometimes."

Lesley leaned in close. "Does he ever talk about me?"

"Erm..." Lesley's face was so full of hope, Peter almost hated to tell her the truth. "Sometimes."

He didn't often mention her by name, really, only as one of the Blondes. He had decided back in January to snog them all by Easter, but he hadn't achieved his goal, mainly because Gretchen held out. Besides Lily, who was off limits on account of James was madly in love with her, Gretchen was the only girl in the school who showed no interest whatsoever in Sirius, which only made Sirius more interested in her.

"Did you hear that, Gretch? I told you he liked me."

"He likes every girl. He even likes Victoria Crabbe, and she's the ugliest girl in school."

"He only likes her because she gives him the Slytherin password," Peter said.

Lesley perked up. She was the sort of girl who was never happy unless she had something to gossip about. "Really?"

"Well, sure. We go down there all the time. You remember when it was flooded?"

"That was Sirius?" Lesley asked. "McGonagall was furious about that! Everyone was!"

"It was all of us. We set regurgitating charms on the toilets. It was easy."

"Wow," Lesley breathed. "Sirius is fearless."

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "She's a little obsessed."

"Why?" Peter asked. "Sirius is a prat. You can do much better than him."

Lesley turned a withering glare on him. Peter began to backpedal. "Erm, I only meant that, erm... well..."

"Ignore her," Gretchen told him. "She won't hear a word against Sirius. So, tell me about James."

Peter sighed. "What about him?"

"Is he really over Lily?"

"That's what he says, but I don't know. We don't really talk about girls much."

"Then what do you talk about?" Lesley asked, incredulous, as though the opposite sex were the only possible conversation piece.

"I don't know. Just stuff. Classes. Each other. Ways to get into trouble. We talk about that last one a lot."

"Boys are weird," Lesley said dismissively.

Not nearly as weird as girls, Peter thought, but he decided to keep that to himself.

"So, back to James," Gretchen said, leaning forward excitedly just as the carriage started to roll forward. Peter thought he would never get to the castle.

In the common room, Peter ignored the Marauders and sat next to Dirk and Michael, listening carefully as they talked about muggle things. "Did you watch Monty Python's Flying Circus while you were home?" Dirk asked.

"My dad loves that program," Michael gushed.

Peter couldn't make sense of much that they were saying. All he could hear was James and Sirius across the common room, excitedly telling a group of girls about their daring flight from Godric's Hollow all the way to Cornwall and about the horrors of their punishment when they were caught.

"I had to scrub the bathroom," James complained. "Have any of you ever scrubbed a bathroom? It's bloody awful!"

"Not as awful as degnoming a garden," Sirius countered. "I was bitten twice. Look." He held his hand out to show his injuries. As one, the girls moaned in sympathy with him. Lesley took his fingers and caressed them, pulling them to her mouth to kiss them better.

Peter tore his eyes away. "What's Monty Python's Flying Circus?" he asked Dirk.

"It's a program. On the telly," Dirk answered, looking at Peter as though he'd just grown an extra head or said he hated chocolate.

"What the hell is a telly?"

"It's a... it's a telly. Don't you know what a telly is?"

Peter shook his head.

"It's a sort of box," Michael explained. "You watch programs on it. Like a play, only it's all recorded."

Peter had no idea what "recorded" meant. "Never mind," he growled, and stomped up the stairs to the dormitory.

Remus was up there.

Peter turned the moment he saw him, ready to head back down the stairs.

"Peter, wait!" Remus called, rushing after him.

"I don't want to talk to you."

Hurt shone in Remus' eyes.

"Peter, wait!" Remus repeated. "Please."

Peter turned slowly, bracing himself for another argument. Part of him wished Remus would leave him alone. Another part of him hoped Remus wouldn't give up on him as quickly as James had.

"What do you want?"

"James said you don't even want to be friends with us anymore. Is this because of your mum? Because we didn't know. James and Sirius didn't know anything, and I thought you said she was doing better. We shouldn't have just come like that, but please don't be cross."

"It's not only about that, and I'm not cross with you, just with them. They're always teasing me and bossing me around. You, too. Why do you even like them, Remus?"

"Because they're nice to me, and they're fun. And they bought-"

"I don't care what new toy they bought!" Peter exploded. He was tired of watching the two of them flaunt their wealth, buying everything they wanted, or getting their parents to. He hated them. Both of them. Hated them and their perfect lives with perfect families. Hated them for taking Remus, his only friend, away from him. Remus was on their side; it was obvious. Peter may as well go make friends with Cole. He decided to try one last-ditch effort.

"They get you into trouble all the time."

"Not that often," Remus said defensively.

"Didn't they get you in trouble just a few days ago?"

Remus blushed. "Well, yes, but they didn't mean to."

"Yes, they did," Peter spat. "They always mean to. They don't think about anyone but themselves."

"That's not true. They were really sorry about that. They said they're going to make it up to me."

"And you believed them?"

"Why are you so angry with them?"

"I told you. They don't care about us, Remus. They just use us as their look-outs."

Remus crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not true. They're my friends, and yours too. You shouldn't talk about them like that."

It figured that Remus would defend them. He always defended them. Peter found himself wondering if Remus defended Peter to Sirius and James like that. Probably not. He clenched his mouth shut, trying to find the words to make Remus see reason. He stared at Remus. Remus stared back. Silence reigned between them for long, painful seconds. The only sound in the dormitory was James' cat was meowing loudly and pawing at something under Sirius' bed.

"If they're such great friends, why didn't they come try to find me on the train today? For that matter, why didn't you?" Peter asked softly when he could stand the silence no longer.

Remus narrowed his eyes. "James did go after you."

"Yeah, and he talked to me for about three seconds before he ran off again. Well, I don't need you anymore. I have a new friend. Cole. He's a Hufflepuff."

"Peter, James told us you said you didn't want to talk to us. He said you didn't want to be friends with us. We were just trying to give you what you wanted. We thought you'd come around."

"And whose idea was that? If one of you was angry, you wouldn't have just let him alone. I don't think they even like me, and you're almost as bad. I used to think you really were my friend. I guess was wrong." Remus gasped, and Peter felt the same little thrill of happiness he had felt when he saw hurt cross James' face for a fraction of a second.

Peter shot Remus a final, haughty, victorious look and started toward the door. Remus grabbed his arm and spun him around. Peter jerked his arm away.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Remus asked, his voice soft. Dangerous. Peter had never heard him speak with such a tone. Suddenly he didn't feel so victorious at all. "What were we supposed to do? Usually when a person says they don't want to talk to you, that's what they mean. How were we supposed to know you were speaking some secret Peter language where 'I don't want to talk to you' really means 'come kiss my arse to prove you care'!"

"Why do you always defend them?" Peter asked

"Because they're my friends!" Remus said, exasperated. "Why do you always whinge about them?"

"I'm not whinging." Peter cried, pushing Remus as hard as he could.

Remus stumbled and fell, looking up at Peter with shock on his face. Griselda forgot her interest in the underside of James' bed and came to brush against Remus. Even the damn cat was taking sides.

Remus ignored the cat. "Just go then," he muttered, looking near tears.

"Are we interrupting?" Sirius asked, sticking his head into the dormitory. Remus clambered to his feet, holding Griselda in his arms.

"All right, Remus?" James asked, coming into the dormitory behind Sirius.

"I'm fine. I was only down there to pet Griselda."

Peter turned to glare at him. "And I was just leaving." He brushed past Sirius and James and headed for the door.

"Hey, wait, we got you something. James' parents took us by Diagon Alley this morning, and, well..." Peter stopped short, turning back into the room.

"You got me something?"

Sirius disappeared under his bed and appeared with a bird cage, covered in a cloth. Sirius removed the cloth with a graceful little flourish. A brown owl with a white face slumbered inside. It opened one golden eye lazily and looked at Peter, letting out a small hoot.

Peter stared, open-mouthed, at the owl. He had always wanted one. After a few false starts and painful stutters, he managed to choke out, "Why did you do that?"

"Because you said you never had a pet, and that you wished you could have one. We thought about getting you a cat, but you don't seem to like Griselda much, so we thought, an owl..." James explained.

"We discussed waiting for your birthday, but that's ages away, and we thought you could use some cheering up now," Sirius continued, holding the owl's cage out to Peter. "So, we reckoned it was okay a get your friend a gift for no reason. Just because he's your friend."

Peter had never before understood what he word "overhwhelmed" meant. He first heard it when he was very young - his dad used it to describe his mother's insanity, telling Peter that she had just been overwhelmed by Audrey's death and would get better soon. And when she did, he said she was just overwhelmed by the treatments and needed a little more time, and then everything would be back to normal. And when that never happened, he said she was overwhelmed by life sometimes, and was having a bad day.

Peter understood the word now. His father bought him the same gift two years in a row - a gift he hadn't even liked the first time he got it. Aunt Miriam smiled and treated him like a tool, a pawn to guilt Emory into locking Delilah away, but he never would. His life was full of people who didn't care about him: people who told him he was in the way; people who forgot him; people who told him to shut up, to go away, to leave them alone; people who screamed his name but didn't always recognize him when he walked through the door; people who loved the idea of having a son and of playing savior to a nephew, but who didn't really know the first thing about who he was and didn't care to know.

James and Sirius had not only listened to him well enough to pick a gift he actually liked, but they had gone out and bought it. For no reason. Just because he was their friend. He was suddenly flooded with guilt.

"Thank you," Peter whispered, reaching out to take the owl. It was the only thing he could force his mouth to say.

Peter looked at Sirius; he was smiling. Next he looked at James; he was also smiling. Finally he looked at Remus; he wasn't smiling at all.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Peter said softly.

Remus shrugged. "'S'okay," he murmured, not quite meeting Peter's eyes.

"This is wonderful, mates." He opened the owl's cage and ran his fingers down its back. He had always loved the feel of owl feathers. Every time he stroked one, he was amazed afresh at how soft they were.

"Remus, are you all right?" James asked.

Remus nodded. "I'm fine. What are you going to name the owl, Peter?"

"I don't know. I was never good at coming up with stuff. Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl," Sirius reported.

"When I was really young, before my mum got sick, we used to have an owl named Hester."

"Hester's a good name," James said approvingly.

"Come on, let's go take her to the owlery," Sirius said excitedly.

"You two go on. Remus and I will be down in a second."

Sirius eyed the two of them for a moment. "Yeah, okay. We'll meet you in the common room. Come on, James."

James hesitated. He hated being left out of things.

"I said come on, Jamie," Sirius said, pulling James out of the room by the back of his robes.

Peter watched them go, and turned to face Remus only when he was sure they were gone. He put Hester's cage on the ground.

"I really am sorry," Peter said quietly. Suddenly, he couldn't force himself to speak out loud. "I was a prat."

"Yes," Remus agreed. "You were. But we're all prats sometimes." He gave Peter a small smile.

Peter returned it. "Still friends?"

"Of course we are," Remus assured him. "So you still want to be friends with us?"

Peter nodded.

"Even them?"

Peter nodded again. "I was afraid they'd make fun of my mum."

"They won't. Even they have their limits. They felt really bad about it. They were really worried about whether or not you'd forgive them."

"Really? They were worried about me?"

"They like you, Peter."

"No, they don't," Peter muttered.

"Yes, they do," Remus insisted. "How many times are we all going to have to tell you we like you before you believe it?"

"Then why do they always tease me so much?"

"They tease everyone like that. You shouldn't take it so personally."

"They don't tease you like that."

"They do sometimes. Don't you remember when they hid all my underpants while I was in the shower, and they wouldn't give them back, and I had to go without all day?"

Peter smiled a little. "Yeah, but you got really mad about that."

"Yeah, it was pretty annoying, but I think it's a good thing. They only tease the people they like. Trust me, if they didn't like you, they'd be hiding frogs in your bed and covering you in pumpkin goo and turning your hair pink. They don't like Snivellus. You - you're their friend."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "I'm their friend."

Remus nodded resolutely, his smile almost returning.

"I really am sorry," Peter said again.

Remus shrugged. "I'd be upset if I were in your place. We all have things we don't want other people to find out about."

Peter nodded.

"Shall we go, then?" Remus asked. "James is probably going batty down there. I bet you my Dangerous Dai Llewellyn card he asks us what we were doing the second we get down there."

"No way am I taking that bet," Peter said with a smile. He picked up Hester's cage and stuck a finger inside to stroke her again. "She's really beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yes," Remus agreed. "Prettiest owl I've ever seen."

Peter followed Remus down the stairs and to the portrait hole to meet Sirius and James.

"What took you so long?" James asked. "What were you doing up there?"

"He was losing his mind down here," Sirius reported. "I kept having to talk him out of going after you."

"Well, it's almost curfew!" James said defensively.

"It's not curfew for another half an hour. That's plenty of time to get to the owlery and back," Peter said.

"And since when have you ever cared about curfew?" Remus teased.

"What _were _you doing?" James asked.

Remus and Peter shared a discreet smile. Peter was glad he hadn't taken the bet.


	28. Remus: 11 April, 1972

Remus: 11 April, 1972

Griselda crawled atop Remus' bag and meowed importantly, begging for attention. Remus obliged, glad to have a reason to put off his packing. He couldn't put it off too long, he knew; he had a deadline, after all. One that was fast approaching. But a small break was a welcome idea. Griselda closed her eyes, purring contentedly, leaning into Remus' fingers as though they were the only thing in the world as he scratched her head. She was getting fat, Remus noticed. That wasn't surprising. James gave her treats almost constantly. He couldn't resist when she nosed at them. He doted on that cat. She didn't want for anything. Remus could only imagine what James would be like if he ever had children; they'd be spoiled rotten by the time they were three days old.

Griselda yowled in protest when Remus lifted her off his bag, setting her gently to the side so he could resume his packing. After a few moments of butting at the bag, and then at Remus' hand, she gave up and sauntered out of the room. Looking for James, no doubt.

Peter sat on Remus' bed, in constant chatter mode. Remus liked Peter like that, mostly because it meant Peter was happy, and Remus liked to see his friends happy. Especially Peter. It seemed he had little to be happy about these days. His mother had taken a turn for the worst, his grades were abysmal, and yesterday a bunch of Slytherins had figured out that if they waited until James and Sirius weren't around to defend him, they could hex Peter to their heart's content, and he wouldn't fight back. Remus tried to convince him to tell James and Sirius - they would never stand for anyone hexing their friend - or to tell McGonagall, who would undoubtedly have put a stop to it, but Peter refused on grounds that Sirius was always calling him a rat. Remus tried to explain that tattling on Slytherins didn't make a person a rat: only tattling on your friends did that, but Peter had decided to suffer in silence.

The other thing Remus liked about Peter's chatter mode was that it required very little energy on his part: just an occasional nod and "uh-huh" would do the trick. Peter would more or less take it from there. Now, however, Remus would have to interrupt him. It was time for him to go.

"Just let me finish my story," Peter ordered.

Annoyance rose in Remus' chest like a tidal wave. He didn't have time to wait. Didn't Peter understand that? No, Remus reminded himself. Peter thought Remus was going home to visit his sick mum; that was what everyone thought. Remus hated the lie. Even more than that, he hated that the lie was so necessary. Remus was in no mood to be ordered around today. He was exhausted, he was frustrated and, more than anything else, he was filled to the brim with anxiety. So much anxiety it settled in his stomach, twisting it painfully, and radiated outward, causing his fingers to tingle, his legs to quiver, and his eyelid to twitch.

"Peter... Peter... PETE!"

Peter stopped mid-sentence. "Remus, you know I don't like to be called Pete." Remus did know, but sometimes it was the only way to get Peter's attention. Well, that and calling him Worm Guts, which James and Sirius still did from time to time. Remus, however, refused to call him that.

"You'll like this story," Peter continued. "It'll make you laugh."

"Send it to me with your owl," Remus suggested. "I have to go. My dad will be waiting for me."

"Let him wait," Peter said with a shrug. "My dad's always making me wait for him."

"Well, my dad never makes me wait, and besides, he puts a lot of stock in punctuality." That wasn't entirely true, but it could have been true, for all Peter knew. Honestly, Remus wasn't sure about his father's views on had never really had reason to it. He was always on time for work; Remus knew that much.

Remus trudged down the stairs with his bag full of clothes and homework. He usually never actually got to the homework, but he liked to hope.

It seemed too soon to be time again, though he tried to remind himself that it was later than it had been last month. Remus' favorite season was Spring for this very reason. It was always heartening when the days began to grow longer and the nights shorter. Remus tried to focus on that. He always tried to focus on other things. His transformations were only one night a month, after all. Sure, it was a difficult night, but once it was over, he would have twenty-eight whole days before he had to worry about it again. He was a person far more often than he was a werewolf, and that was something to be glad about. He tried to think like that as often as he could, but sometimes, and today was shaping up to be one of those times, he just couldn't help feeling sorry for himself.

He shouldn't, he knew. There were worse things in life than being a werewolf. He could have been born a vampire or a hag. He could have caught spattergroit. He could have been a squib. He could be dead. He shouldn't feel sorry for himself, but he couldn't seem to snap himself out of it today.

It was a beautiful day, with little fluffy clouds in a perfectly blue sky. It almost looked like a painting as he stared at the horizon. If he'd had time, he might have tried to capture it on a canvas, but he didn't. He never would have been able to work quickly enough anyway; Spring days were ephemeral things. Maybe when he got back, he could recreate it from memory.

James and Sirius were in the common room, occupying a sofa. James was playing a harmonica. Remus had no idea where the harmonica had come from, and he was afraid to ask. When James and Sirius showed up with anything odd, the chances were good it had been nicked. The chances were even better it had been nicked from a Slytherin.

James wasn't very good at it... unless a harmonica was supposed to sound like a dying cat. He didn't seem overly perturbed by the feline death chant. Indeed, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Several of the students around him looked as though they were edging toward a mutiny, but James was oblivious. He pulled the thing away from his mouth long enough to say, "I think I'm getting the hang of this," and resume cheerfully.

It didn't seem fair; Remus wanted to be sitting down there making faces and groaning as James attempted to make music. He wanted to be carefree like the others. Remus rarely let himself think about things like fairness; it did little good, but today, he couldn't keep that thought out of his mind either. It wasn't _fair_.

Remus wasn't anything special, really. He wasn't the best at much of anything. He was bright; that much was true, and he had but a great deal of stock in that when he was younger, sure that it would save him from the exile most werewolves faced. It was possible, he supposed. He was at the top of his class, after all. Just beneath Sirius and barely above James. McGonagall said it was the first time in over a hundred years that none of the top three students were Ravenclaws. Unlike Sirius and James, however, Remus worked hard for his grades. No, he was nothing special. He was just an ordinary person: a person who liked school and friends and Spring days and chocolate cake, and who didn't deserve this. He had never deserved this. He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long time, just watching them. James really was awful on that harmonica.

Peter brushed past him and charged across the room. He smacked at the others to tell them Remus was leaving. Remus almost wished he hadn't. He almost wished they had kept laughing and joking and trying to teach themselves to play the harmonica. Instead they looked in his direction, and their smiles slowly faded.

"We're sorry about your mum, Remus," Sirius said, coming over to him.

"Yeah, we hope she gets better soon," Peter added. "Having a sick mum is the worst."

Remus tried to push aside the guilt. He had been trained early to keep this secret, but he preferred keeping it through silence rather than lies. Telling everyone he was sick was one thing; saying it was his mother was something completely different. Especially since Peter's mother really was sick. He had tried to talk about it that morning, wanting to know what was wrong with her and if she'd get better. Remus had dodged the questions as best he could, and Peter, thankfully, had bought it.

Peter usually bought what he was told. Sirius and James would question it: digging deeper, putting puzzle pieces together, finding joy in the search; but Peter skimmed the surface. He was straightforward and assumed every one else was, too. There was something sort of comforting in that for Remus, in knowing that what he saw was what he got, in being able to rest assured that there were no mysteries with Peter.

James was unpredictable. Solid and dependable, but unpredictable. One never knew when he might up and decide to go explore the forest in the middle of the night or fly to Cornwall because he missed someone. James was a person you wanted on your side in a crisis, but, more often than not, he was the one who had caused the crisis to begin with. His favorite thing to do was rush off somewhere without a second thought to the consequences. Remus was always thinking about the consequences; he had to. A werewolf could not afford the luxury of impetuosity.

Sirius, on the other hand, was enigmatic. Remus always had the feeling that he was full of secrets. For all his showy confidence, Remus would catch him staring into space and frowning, deep in thought about something that he would never verbalize. Whenever Remus asked him what was wrong or what he was thinking about, he would snap out of it, plaster on a big smile, and say he was plotting something to do to the Slytherins.

James and Peter never seemed to notice, but Remus did. He did too much daydreaming not to be able to recognize it when someone else did it. Only thing was, Remus' daydreams were usually about happy things; stories or art or memories. Sirius' always seemed to make him sad. It had something to do with his family, Remus knew, and he was curious, but he knew he'd never ask. If Sirius wanted him to know his secret, Sirius would tell him.

"We'll see you in a few days, then?" James asked.

Remus nodded. "I have to go," he said softly. "See you."

"Do you want some company?" Sirius asked. "We can come with you to McGonagall's, if you like."

"No, that's okay. I'll be fine on my own. Bye."

"Bye. Tell your mum we hope she feels better," Peter said.

"I will," Remus replied with a small nod. Then he jerked his bag higher up on his shoulder and headed out the portrait hole.

Daniel was waiting for him in McGonagall's office.

"Have everything?" he asked. Remus gave a small nod, hesitating next to the floo.

He didn't want to go.

He didn't want to spend the night locked in a basement, ripping himself apart.

He wanted to be normal.

Suddenly Remus' sinuses burned; he didn't know what was the matter with him. It wasn't usually this hard. Maybe it was because he'd only had two days to enjoy with his friends. Maybe it was because he was just so tired of his life being dictated by the phases of the moon. Most kids his age probably wouldn't have known what a waxing moon was if it whacked them on the arse. Remus couldn't ever remember not knowing.

Remus scurried through the floo. In his own living room, Charlotte pounced, hugging him tightly.

"Bonsoir, maman," he whispered.

"Bonsoir, ma puce."

There was still some time before he would have to be locked away. Remus and his parents passed the time with gobstones, all of them pretending to smile through the anxiety on their faces. Daniel always affected a too-hearty, painfully fake laugh on transformation days. Charlotte fed Remus chocolate cake and milk, and he gulped it down dutifully, though it tasted like ash in his mouth. The sun moved to a corner of the sky, casting long shadows on the floor.

"C'est l'heure," Charlotte said with a sigh.

Remus nodded. He hadn't needed the reminder. He knew it was time. He always knew when it was time; he was full of jittery energy, like he was about to jump out of his skin. In a way, he supposed he was. Or be ripped out of it, more like.

Remus understood the need for the basement. He hadn't understood it the first time, and had screamed loudly, begging to be let out. He could still remember the sound of his mother crying on the other side of the door that first night. After he saw the destruction he had wrought, he understood. One night a month, he was a living, breathing nightmare. The basement was unusually empty tonight. Usually, it was full of things to destroy; the healers always hoped that, if Remus had things to occupy his werewolf mind, he wouldn't hurt himself too badly. Some months it worked, and some it didn't. There was one thing they had learned for certain, though; if the room was empty, Remus would ravage himself.

He sat on the top step, leaning against the door. It had been years since he had cried, locked in here alone, waiting for the moon to come out, but part of him still wanted to. His eyes stung with the unshed tears. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to think about what was coming. Trying only to enjoy this small moment of peace.

Charlotte had stuck two fingers beneath the door. Remus laid two fingers in her own, intertwining them. Through the door, he could hear her singing a lullaby: something she used to sing when he was young. It was still comforting to hear the familiar song. Suddenly a shudder went through Remus. The time had come. He jerked his fingers out of his mother's hand and rushed to the bottom of the stairs. He knew from experience that transforming at the top would only mean an eventual fall. By the time he reached the bottom, his mother's fingers had disappeared. By now, she would have put an imperturbable charm and a silencing charm on the door.

The silencing charm was Mr. Potter's idea. He told the Lupins there was nothing to be gained by listening to their son's distress; there was nothing they could do about it anyway. It wasn't as if they could go down and tend to him if he was hurt. Instead, he suggested they sleep so that they could better care for him when he came back to himself. Charlotte refused at first, insisting on spending the night outside the basement door, no matter how many times Mr. Potter and Daniel and the other healers told her she was only torturing herself needlessly. Eventually, Mr. Potter suggested Daniel slip her a sleeping potion, and he had. The next morning, she discovered that they had been right, and that her time was better spent resting up so that she could care for Remus' post-transformation injuries.

Now she always set a silencing charm on the door and took a sleeping potion willingly. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink.

Remus had only been transformed back a matter of minutes when Charlotte and Daniel opened the door the next morning. He felt like every bone in his body was broken, but discovered only two were: his right arm and his left leg. Charlotte brought him a pillow and a blanket while Daniel summoned a healer. Remus croaked for some water, and Charlotte lifted Remus' pounding head enough for him to have a few sips of it. Nothing was ever so refreshing as that first sip of water after he had transformed.

"Can I go to my bed?" Remus moaned.

"Not until a healer checks you," Charlotte reminded him gently. Remus nodded. He knew that; he wasn't sure why he had asked. Only the stone floor was so hard. He had been spoiled by the wooden floor in the shack. It had a little give in it, at least. He shifted, trying to change the pressure on his shoulders. He yelped as pain rushed through him.

"Shh. Lie still, " Charlotte whispered. "It won't be long now."

Remus was not surprised when it was Mr. Potter who came. He knelt beside Remus and checked him over as Remus' parents watched. "You were right about the arm and the leg, and I'm worried about this gash on your forehead," Mr. Potter informed him. That was one of the things Remus had always liked about Mr. Potter. He spoke to Remus instead of about him, and he didn't sugarcoat things for him as though he were a child. He said Remus was the one who was going to have to learn to manage his condition, so he may as well understand it early. "I'm going to put some dittany on it, and hopefully it won't scar, but I can't be sure. It looks like you must have done it early in the night."

Remus had been so focused on the pain in his leg and arm that he hadn't even felt the gash on his forehead. Now it seared itself into its consciousness. He winced at the fresh wave of pain. "I don't want a scar," he said, his voice sounding small and frightened in the underground room. He had always known it was only a matter of time before he disfigured his own face. He'd yet to see an adult werewolf without visible scars, but he hoped he'd be lucky.

"I'm going to do my best," Mr. Potter informed him as he went to work. Remus closed his eyes, fighting to stay awake.

"I had an owl from James last night," Mr. Potter said conversationally as he worked on Remus' leg. Remus groaned as he felt the dull ache of bones knitting. Still, it was better than the acute pain of bones separating. "He wanted me to come over here first thing this morning and heal your mother."

Remus gave a small smile. Good old James. "I lied to him," Remus admitted sheepishly.

Mr. Potter nodded. "You didn't have much choice. Sometimes it's okay to tell lies, but only when you have to."

"Do you think he'd still be my friend if he found out?" Remus asked, trying to keep the small waver out of his voice. Losing his friends was the worst thing he could possibly imagine.

Mr. Potter suddenly stilled. "Are you planning to tell him?"

"No," Remus assured him. "I just wondered."

"I'm sure he would still be your friend. Close your eyes."

The dittany was soothing on his cut. The pain almost immediately ceased. Now Remus was sure he was going to fall asleep right here on the stone floor.

"And if he weren't still your friend, I think I'd march into Hogwarts right in the middle of breakfast and take him over my knee."

Remus giggled a little, opening his eyes a slit. Mr. Potter's eyes were twinkling. "No, you wouldn't."

"You're right, I wouldn't. But I don't think you have anything to worry about. James is quite fond of you. I think you can go to your bed now. I know you're knackered."

Daniel grunted a little as he lifted Remus from the floor. Remus laid his head against his dad's shoulder. He was knackered - so knackered he was asleep before they even got to the top of the stairs.

When Remus awoke he was stiff, but not sore. Mostly, he was ravenous. "Maman!" he called. Charlotte appeared within seconds.

"Are you hungry?"

Remus nodded.

"I already have some chicken soup ready for you."

It was as though she could read his mind.

"How do you always know just what i want?"

Charlotte smiled at him, caressing his face. "I pay attention. Can you sit up? Do you need help?"

Remus shook his head, pushing himself up against the pillows. He was still exhausted, but the promise of food was already doing wonders for his mood. The chicken soup was perfect. Remus sometimes thought he could have eaten dirt just after a transformation and would have thought it delectable. He was glad he had his mother's cooking instead. She sat with him as he ate, telling stories that made him laugh. Then he told her a few stories he had made up. Just as he was finishing, an owl scratched at the window.

"That's Peter's owl," Remus exclaimed.

Charlotte rose to open the window, and the owl flew in with a soft hoot. She carried a veritable bundle of letters. Each of the Marauders had written to Remus, and each of them had made Charlotte a Get Well Soon card. "That was nice of them," Charlotte said, looking at the cards with a smile on her face. Charlotte liked his friends, Remus knew, because they made him happy, even if they had convinced him to fly off to Cornwall.

Charlotte returned to the bed, and Remus cuddled up next to her. He fell asleep with his head in her lap and his friends' letters clutched in his hand as she stroked his hair and told him the story of Cendrillon.

Remus rested the next day, and when he awoke the third morning, he felt much better. "May I go back to Hogwarts today?" he asked at breakfast.

"I don't know," Charlotte replied. "You're not eating much."

He wasn't eating much because the kippers were staring at him, and he had lost his appetite. He liked kippers well enough, but he never understood why Charlotte insisted on leaving heads on. He much preferred his food to be sanitized and completely unrecognizable as anything that had once been alive. He remembered going to the marché with her once when they were visiting her parents. He recalled little else about the trip except how disturbed he had been to see rabbits, skinned and lying in display cases without their innards.

"Why do they leave the heads on them?" Remus had asked, disgusted.

"So that we know they're really rabbits," Charlotte replied.

"What else would they be?" Remus asked incredulously. He immediately regretted it.

"Cats," was Charlotte's terse reply.

Remus had never much cared for rabbit after that.

He leaned to the left, trying to get out of the kippers' line of sight. Their eyes seemed to follow him everywhere he went, accusing him.

"I'm just not in the mood for kippers," he said, looking apologetically at Charlotte.

She rushed to the kitchen to make him some bangers instead. He ate them with gusto, and she agreed to let him go back to Hogwarts.

By the time he arrived in McGonagall's office, it was nearly time for him to be in Potions, so he rushed down to the dungeons, glad his Potions book was one of the ones he had decided to take home.

When he arrived in the classroom, Slughorn wasn't there yet. The Marauders were sitting in the back, spread casually over far too many chairs. James had learned to pay a blues riff on his harmonica some time during Remus' absence. Sometimes it made Remus a little sad to think of all the things he missed out on. He could imagine how proud James would have been when he learned it, and wished he had been there to share it with him. He stood next to the door watching as Sirius began to improvise songs about their classmates while James accompanied.

"Well, over there is Snape.  
He's such a prat.  
He thinks he's amazing.  
But he looks like a bat.  
Oh, I got the I got to put up with this arsehole Snape every day of my life blues."

A titter went through the Gryffindor side of the class. Even a few of the Slytherins were clearly hiding smiles. Remus let out a small laugh along with his housemates. Heartened by the laughter, Sirius continued on to Lily, who turned to glare at him.

"The ginger is Lily.  
She's got the smarts.  
My best mate thinks she's gorgeous.  
And she's got a nice..."

"Don't you dare!" Lily growled.

"Farce," Sirius finished after the tiniest of pauses. The entire class laughed appreciatively at that. Sirius continued without missing a beat. "Oh, I got the Lily you're so perfect and you should go out with my best mate blues."

Lily turned her glare to James, who dropped his harmonica and grinned at her innocently.

"I would go out with you if you were the last man on earth, James Potter."

James' smile faded. "Oi! I didn't make up a song about your farce! I'm just the harmonica player," he protested.

"You would really rather condemn the entire human race to extinction than go out with James?" Sirius asked. "Just look at him, Evans. He's adorable." Sirius reached over to grab James' face. James shot her a toothy smile.

Lily hmphed and turned away, punctuating her displeasure with a toss of her hair. Remus sometimes wondered if there were some sort of secret school where girls learned the secret art of hair tossing. They all seemed to know how to do it. Though so did Sirius, now that Remus thought about it.

"Merlin's bony ankles, talk about a killjoy," Sirius muttered, loudly enough for the entire class to hear.

"What's a killjoy?" Slughorn asked, coming up behind Remus. "Take your seat, please, Mr. Lupin."

Remus slipped into a seat next to Peter as Sirius replied to Slughorn.

"Having to wait to brew potions. I've been looking forward to this class all week."

Slughorn beamed at Sirius while Snape made a kissy face at him. Sirius shot Snape a two-fingered salute the moment Slughorn's back was turned, tossing his hair in a perfect imitation of Lily.

"Glad you're back, Remus," James whispered. "Have we got something to tell you! We found a secret passage on the fourth floor, and we don't think Filch knows about it. We've been waiting for you to come back so we could check it out."

"Wicked," Remus whispered back, a smile on his face. It was good to be back. It got even better halfway through the class, when Snape's potion inexplicably exploded. Remus turned to gaze at Sirius, who wore a far-too-innocent expression on his face.

"What?" Sirius asked with mock defensiveness. "He deserved it. He was making fun of me."

"Doesn't seem to learn, does he?" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head. "Hasn't got the brains God gave a dung beetle, that one."

"I will never understand what Lily sees in him," James mumbled, watching as Lily wiped destroyed potion gently off Snape's face. She turned to glare at the Marauders, and they all made themselves suddenly busy. Slughorn didn't suspect a thing. He never did. Yes, Remus decided. It was good to be back.


	29. James: 22 April, 1972

James: 22 April, 1972

Snivellus.

Everywhere James turned, there he was. Talking to Lily. Smiling at her. Flirting with her. Gloating over her.

"Just face it," he had sneered at James the day before. "The best man won. Lily chose me."

Tripping him in front of the whole school during dinner had only made James feel a little bit better, because he knew Snivellus was right.

Not about the best man winning, because James had no doubt that he, James, was the better man. But Snivelly was right about Lily having chosen him. They were together even more than usual lately. Sirius insisted there were no signs of romance, but James wasn't so sure. Boys and girls didn't just hang around one another like that. The only reason James could see for hanging around a girl was to date her.

Not that he knew the first thing about dating, really, except that when you were dating someone, you carried her books to class and sat beside her and passed notes and fed each other cake. James liked the idea of Lily feeding him cake. Liked it so well he would sometimes think about it through his whole History of Magic class, and when class was over he would see that Remus had twelve pages of notes, Sirius had a page full of doodles, Peter looked like he had just been run over by a herd of hippogriffs, and James hadn't heard a single word Binns had said.

James also knew that dating led to snogging, which he very much wanted to try. Sirius made it sound like fun, anyway. He certainly didn't seem to ever get tired of it. Remus had said just that morning at breakfast that if he didn't slow down, he was going to run out of girls to snog before the end of the year.

"Then I'll just start over at the top of the list," Sirius had replied with a shrug. Sirius was James' idol.

Lily was currently sitting with her friends, talking animatedly and laughing. She was so beautiful James thought he could have just sat here until the end of time, watching her.

"Your best bet is to make her jealous, mate," Sirius said casually, flopping down on the sofa next to James. Sirius always plopped onto sofas and collapsed into chairs and threw himself into his bed. Sometimes he even got a running start, the better to fling himself. Once he had flung too far and fell out of bed on the other side, much to the amusement of the Marauders, who didn't let him live it down for days.

James jerked out of his daydream. "What? Oh, I was just, erm, thinking about my Transfiguration essay."

"Sure you were," Sirius said with a wry smile. "If your Transfiguration essay is called, 'The Twelve Magical Uses of Lily."

James whacked Sirius in the face with a pillow. It seemed the proper thing to do.

Sirius wasn't too fussed about being whacked. "I keep telling you, Gretchen fancies you. She's pretty. Look at her."

She was pretty enough, James supposed. She had blonde hair, but James preferred red. She had green eyes, though not as bright or as large or as... perfect as Lily's. She had a pretty enough face, and she was popular with the other boys, though she turned them all down. But James was only interested in one person, and Gretchen was not her.

"You don't even really know Lily," Sirius continued. "Have you ever even talked to her for more than a few minutes?"

James shrugged. He didn't need to talk to her to know that she was the girl for him. He knew plenty enough about her already. He knew that she was beautiful, and that she was funny, and that she was smart. He knew that she wasn't afraid to kick prefects. He knew that she was nice. Even now, she was petting his cat as she talked to her friends. Most of all, though, he knew that when she walked in the room, his heart started beating faster in his chest. Faster than it had ever beaten before. Faster than he even knew it was possible to beat, and then he began to wonder what it would be like to snog her. Or even just to touch her. He thought about it at night sometimes, wondering if her skin would feel the same as his skin. Probably not. It was probably much softer and nicer and... and... and... perfect.

"I'm telling you, mate. You're better off without her. James? James! Are you even listening to me?"

James had only just realized Sirius was still talking. "Hm? Oh, yes, I was listening. Yes. I'm better off without her. Gretchen fancies me. I should go ask her out."

"So, what are you waiting for?"

What was he waiting for? He didn't know. A miracle, maybe. Yes, that was it. He was waiting for a miracle: for God to part the clouds and stick his face in the common room window and tell Lily in a booming voice that she and James were meant to be together and that she should stop fighting it and come over here and snog him already before God started hurling thunderbolts.

James wasn't sure what was happening to him. He never used to think about things like this. He never used to think about girls at all, really. Now, suddenly, he couldn't think about anything else. He had never before noticed how very _many_ girls there were at Hogwarts, either. Girls in the corridors. Girls in his classes. Girls at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Girls in the library. Girls in the common room. Girls, girls everywhere, and not a one to snog. Well, plenty to snog, really. James was quite popular amongst the girls according to Sirius, and Sirius just knew things like that. James wasn't exactly sure how, but he did.

The problem was that the only girl James was interested in snogging, wasn't interested in snogging him back. It was a bloody tragedy, that's what.

"And this morning, aliens abducted me and cut off my head for their brain probes. Luckily I was able to sew it back on with a toe hair from a passing giant."

"What?" James asked.

Sirius smiled. "I was just seeing how far I could get before you started listening again. I was about to have the giant eat me, but no worries. I'd have fought my way out of his belly, armed only with a table knife I happened to nick from the Great Hall."

"I told you. I'm listening."

"Then what did I say?"

"Erm, you passed a giant with a table knife."

Now it was Sirius' turn to hit James with the pillow. "You really are hopeless. I should put you out of your misery already. It's the only humane thing to do."

"But I'm not miserable," James protested.

"Yes, you are," Sirius corrected with an air of authority. Sirius was the expert on these sorts of things, after all. "You're just too lovesick to realize how miserable you are."

"It's all Snivelly's fault," James complained. "He's turned her against me."

Sirius nodded resolutely. "Probably."

"What does she see in him?" James asked, his voice dangerously close to a whinge.

"Lesley says they're neighbors, and they've been best friends since they were eight. It's hard to compete with that, mate."

James huffed. It wasn't fair. If not for the bad luck of geography, he might have been her neighbor. Well, James wasn't prepared to let a little thing like geography get in his way. He stood and walked over to the Blondes.

Lily sighed. "James, I already told you-"

"Excuse me, Lily, but I came to speak to Gretchen."

Gretchen's cheeks turned a deep rose as she sat up a little straighter. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Would you like to go out with me some time?"

In his periphery, James could see Lily narrowing her eyes. He hoped that meant his ruse was working. Meanwhile, Gretchen was smiling so widely James was sure it had to hurt. "I'd love to! When?"

"Erm, how about Friday?"

"Friday," Gretchen agreed. "It's a date." James had never seen her look so happy. If only his presence made Lily that happy. He turned away from the Blondes, who were now giggling as though the continued existence of the world depended on it, and marched back to Sirius who was watching him approvingly.

"This is fantastic, mate," he enthused. "You can't lose. If Lily gets jealous, then you've got Lily, and if she doesn't, you're going on a date with the one of the prettiest girls in the school."

James studied Gretchen a moment. Yes, she was awfully pretty, now that he thought about it. She was staring at him. He waved. She smiled shyly, blushed deeply, and looked away with a little giggle. He really hoped she wouldn't giggle too much when they were on their date.

"Aren't Remus and Peter back yet?" James asked. "What could they possibly be doing in the library for so long?"

"Homework," Sirius replied. "You should try it some time."

The pillow sailed back to whack Sirius in the face.

"I do my homework. I just don't feel like doing it right now, is all."

"You won't feel like doing it until ten minutes before it's due," Sirius teased.

The next moment, Sirius found himself on the ground as James whacked him with the pillow until a prefect came over and told them to stop it. James muttered under his breath that prefects ought to know better than to mess with the Marauders, ever since "the coup", as they had dubbed their glorious overthrow of the Lucy Malfoy's reign of terror. He certainly strutted much less these days, though the Slytherins seemed to be taking the fall of their golden boy personally. A few of them had even begun trying to get prefects from other houses similarly disgraced. Luckily, the staff were too intelligent to fall for it.

That was the problem with Slytherins, really. For all their sneaking and plotting, they all seemed to share the same fatal flaw: the assumption that the people around them were all idiots. Even Ravenclaws, who were supposed to be the brainy ones, didn't have that problem. For that matter, Sirius, who was the smartest chap James had ever met, didn't have that problem. Maybe it had less to do with intelligence than it did with ego. James had always understood that just because he was good at something - and he was good at quite a lot - didn't mean no one else could be good at it, either. No one ever seemed to be quite as good as James, but that was merely coincidence; he was sure of it.

James and Sirius moved upstairs, where they could wrestle in peace until they were too tired to continue, or it was time for dinner, whichever came first. James' stomach growled at the thought of dinner. He could hardly believe it was two hours away. He felt like he hadn't eaten anything in years.

"I'm hungry," James said, just as Sirius got him into a headlock. "Let me go. I want to go to the kitchens."

"You always get hungry the second I start to win," Sirius protested.

"I don't do it on purpose! Let me go!"

"Only if you'll admit I won."

"Never!" James insisted, tripping Sirius. He let go of James to break his fall, and James pinned him.

"You cheated," Sirius accused.

James ran a hand casually through his hair. "I can't help it if I'm amazing, mate."

The next thing James knew, Sirius was on top of him, and he found himself pinned. "Oi! That wasn't fair! I wasn't ready."

Now it was Sirius' turn to run a hand casually through his hair, grinning confidently. "I can't help it if I'm amazing, mate."

"That was my line!"

"But I say it better." Sirius hopped up and dusted off his robes. He offered James a hand. James took it and pulled him back to the ground. The ensuing scuffle went on for a few minutes before James managed to pin Sirius again.

"Who's amazing?" James asked.

"I am," Sirius replied, looking very unconcerned for a bloke who'd just lost. He never seemed concerned about anything. James hated to lose; he'd get angry every time it happened. With the exception of the quidditch pitch, where he was clearly accustomed to victory, Sirius usually took it in stride. Maybe because he did it so rarely. James bore down on him, wishing he had a hand free so he could poke Sirius' shoulder or stick a hand in his face or something to annoy him enough that he'd admit he'd lost.

"You lost two out of three!" James reminded him.

"Are you sure about that?" Sirius asked. He took advantage of James' momentary confusion to launch a fresh attack.

"Dammit!" James exclaimed as he found himself pinned again. He struggled mightily, but it was no use. Sirius had him, and they both knew it.

"What do you say?" Sirius asked nonchalantly, leaning over James' face. James blew on him, and Sirius jerked away. "Your breath is foul, mate."

"I had the garlic toast at lunch," James said with a smile.

"No fair using biological weapons against me."

James shrugged. "Whatever works, right?" James hopped up. "So, are you coming to the kitchens with me or not?"

"Only if you promise to brush your teeth and never, ever eat garlic toast again."

"I promise," James recited dutifully, carefully crossing his fingers behind his back. Garlic toast was one of the world's true joys, after all. "Race you!" he hollered, taking off out the door.

"No fair!" Sirius called after him, but he would run, James knew. He was far too competitive to let any challenge go unanswered.

They pounded down the stairs and through the common room - to loud complaints from the people they almost bowled over - and clambered out the portrait hole. They didn't stop until they arrived, panting, at the portrait of the bowl of fruit that would lead them to the kitchens.

James liked the hustle and bustle of the kitchens. At his house, the kitchen was where all the best things happened. Some of his happiest memories were of sitting at the breakfast nook, watching his mother cook, telling his dad about his day and all the adventures he had had - and he always found ways to have adventures, no matter what he was doing. The kitchens at Hogwarts were never quite so calm as the kitchen at home, but he liked it there all the same. There were some things that all kitchens shared in common, and love was one of them. It was clear, watching the house elves, that they poured love into the things they cooked. House elves were like that; they loved everybody.

The Marauders went down to the kitchens so often most of the house elves knew them by name. They even knew what sort of snacks each boy liked and had begun keeping them on hand for when the boys inevitably came. James sighed happily as he opened the door, his mouth already watering at the thought of the cheese sandwich he knew was waiting for him on the other side.

James and Sirius stopped short the second they walked through the door and saw a very familiar head of greasy black hair.

"Snivellus?" James asked.

Snape turned, already scowling. James could hardly believe he was here, intruding on the Marauders' territory. The kitchens were practically their sanctuary.

"What are you doing down here?" James demanded.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Snape said with a sneer.

"Why does he always have to be everywhere we go?" Sirius groaned next to James. James was inclined to wonder the same thing. Sometimes James could have sworn he did it on purpose, the arsehole.

"I reckoned if you two could handle nicking food, surely I could manage it. Our whole house is celebrating. In case you forgot, our quidditch team annihilated yours this morning," Snape exclaimed.

James had not forgotten, though he wished he could. The Slytherins were a shoe-in for the quidditch cup. Only Hufflepuff stood in their way, and the Hufflepuffs had such a pitiful team this year it was as though the captain had hand-picked all the students most likely to lose spectacularly. It would be a blood bath.

"Enjoy it while you can, snake," Sirius growled, doing an impressive imitation of Snape's sneer. "James and I will be on the quidditch team next year, so this will be the last year you win."

House elves seemed to have a second sense for trouble brewing, and it was amazing how quickly they could appear, coming out of the woodwork. Hundreds of tiny elves were suddenly between Snape and the Marauders, separating them. Snape kicked at the one closest to him. James recognized the elf as one called Riley. Riley yelped in pain as Snape's foot connected with his belly. James' temper, already bubbling near the surface, exploded spectacularly. He knew there were people in the world who were cruel to house elves, but he had never been able to stomach the thought. He couldn't help thinking of Bunnie as he watched Riley grimace in pain. House elf abusers deserved only very bad things.

With a mighty yell of fury, James charged forward, hitting Snape with all the force he could muster. By the time Sirius and the house elves managed to pull James off of Snape, still kicking and fighting, they had knocked over two shelves full of pies.

James was the clear winner. Snape stood, whimpering and wiping angrily at a trickle of blood coming out of his nose.

"I'm telling!" he announced.

"Go ahead," James shouted, shaking Sirius off. Just once he wished people would let him alone to finally give _Snivellus _the beating he so richly deserved.

"You'll be swished. McGonagall said you would be if you ever got into a fight again."

James acted quickly, running at Snape again. If he was in trouble anyway, he may as well make the most of it. Sirius pulled him away again after only a few seconds, but not before he'd managed to get in a few more good hits.

"Let me go!" James yelled. "Somebody's got to teach him a lesson."

Snape didn't rise this time; he stayed on the ground, tears streaming down his face. James almost felt sorry for him for a moment, until he remembered the kicked house elf, still sniffling in pain as other elves attended to him.

"Not so brave without all your slithering friends behind you, are you?" James asked.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" Snape whispered. He looked up at James through his fringe, his shining black eyes puffy and red. "Why are you always so mean to me? What did I ever do to you?"

James and Sirius glanced at one another. Of all the things they had been expecting to happen, this was, quite possibly, the last thing on the list. The house elves scurried around in the background, trying to clean up the mess James and Snape had made.

"I just wanted to get some food for our party."

James was having trouble wrapping his mind around this new development. Snape crying was not something he ever expected to see.

"You kicked Riley," James said, grasping for anything to say.

Snape looked up at him, hurt in his eyes. "Who the hell is Riley?"

"The house elf."

Confusion furrowed Snape's brow. He didn't even remember kicking the house elf. Kicking house elves was so routine for him he hadn't registered it as memorable.

"I didn't mean to kick a house elf," Snape said through his tears.

"I think he's lying," Sirius whispered. "He's trying to get us to feel sorry for him. We should lock him in a closet. That'll shut him up."

"I think he's telling the truth," James whispered back. "I mean, look at him. He's crying."

"That doesn't mean he's telling the truth," Sirius said darkly. As James watched, tears filled Sirius' eyes and ran down his face. After a few seconds, Sirius' eyes dried suddenly. "Just because you're hopeless at faking it, doesn't mean Snape is. I'm telling you, he's lying."

James pursed his lips. He couldn't just stand there and watch Snape cry. Guilt twisted at his insides. He had been awfully hard on Snape, now that he thought about it. It wasn't his fault Lily had chosen him, and sure he was sort of a git sometimes. Well, most of the time. All the time, actually, but that didn't mean James had to pick on him quite so much. His father had told him to stop, after all, and he had tried for a few days, until Snape had made Lily's hair fall out.

Maybe that wasn't fair, James decided. Snape hadn't deliberately misbrewed his potion, after all, and he certainly couldn't have known that James was going to happen to steal it. Of course, James hadn't been exactly rational at the time. Whenever Lily entered into the picture, all his ability to reason seemed to throw itself right out the window.

"Look, I'm sorry," James said, taking the two steps that put him next to Snape. Sirius sighed loudly. James offered Snape a hand to help him up. "Please don't cry, Sniv, er, Severus. Here. Let me help you up."

Snape's eyes caught James' for a second, still red-rimmed and pitiful, before they turned cold and triumphant. Snape jerked James' arm. James lost his balance and fell. Snape punched him in the face. His glasses shattered. A piece of glass jabbed into his cheek. He felt hot blood pulse down his face. Before he'd even had a chance to react, another blow caught him in the mouth. He tasted blood and spit out a tooth before covering his head with his arms. There wasn't much else he could do; without his glasses, he was almost helpless. The world around him was a giant blur. Snape was such a colossal coward; it was just like him to only attack when James was blind.

"No wonder Lily hates you," Snivelly whispered nastily into his ear. "Everyone knows you're worthless."

James heard shouting as footsteps - Snape's, he hoped - ran away from him. Several house elves screamed. Soft footsteps approached.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked.

James lowered his arms, trying to force Sirius' face into focus through sheer force of will. It was no use. All he could make out was a blur of colors.

"No, I'm not all right!" James snapped. His entire face was throbbing; he could already feel it tingling as it swelled, and Snape's parting words echoed painfully in his mind. No one had ever said anything so cruel to him before. James reached to his cheek and pulled out the shard of glass, dropping it to the floor, where it tinkled. "I can't believe I fell for that! You even warned me not to." James had never felt so stupid in all his life. He had used the exact same move on Sirius less than an hour before; he should have seen it coming. He should have known Snivelly couldn't be trusted.

Sirius put a hand on his back and helped him to his feet. "You were trying to help him. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Where are my glasses?"

"I think they're dead, mate. You'll have to get new ones. I'll help you get to the hospital wing."

"I lost a tooth. It's here somewhere."

There was a brief sound of scurrying as the house elves searched for the tooth. Riley discovered it and gave it to Sirius, chirping out thanks and praises to James for defending him.

"It was nothing. Anyone would have done it," James muttered. "Are you hurt?"

James regretted asking it immediately; the question sent poor Riley into a tizzy.

"This is really gross, Jamie. I hope you appreciate this," Sirius said as he closed his fist around James' tooth.

It was difficult for James to appreciate much of anything at the moment. He couldn't stop worrying the hole where his tooth had been with his tongue. He had nightmares sometimes where his teeth were falling out.

"I'm going to kill Snivellus," James spat as he walked, holding a handkerchief to his mouth as Sirius led him forward. It seemed forever before they arrived at the hospital wing. It also seemed practically everyone in the school was out in the corridors.

One of the things James liked best about Madame Pomfrey was that she didn't ask many questions; James and Sirius didn't even have to come up with a believable lie. All his injuries were minor, so the healing went quickly, but James' wounded pride was much harder to mend, and each time he caught his reflection in a mirror, the anger burned afresh. The tooth he lost had been a baby tooth, so Madame Pomfrey wouldn't put it back; she said it would just fall out again soon. But that meant James' smile now had a little hole in it.

Pomfrey had given him new glasses, but she didn't have any frames he really liked, so he'd had to settle. Sirius kept telling him they looked better than his old ones, but he didn't think so. The cut on his cheek was healed, but the tiniest hint of a scar was there. Madame Pomfrey assured him it would fade in a few days, but seeing it rankled all the same. Remus was particularly sympathetic about that; he had a tiny hint of a new scar himself; from falling in the bathtub and hitting his head while he was home visiting his mother. Still, to James' eyes, the scar looked much redder and angrier than it actually was.

Hatred was not an emotion with which James was familiar. He'd never had reason to feel it, really, but he felt it now. Hatred beat an ugly, black tattoo upon his heart. He hated Snivellus. _Hated him_.

Up until that moment, his relationship with Snivellus had been more or less tit for tat. When Snape struck, he would do what he had to do to get even, and was happy to let it end there. It was Snape who continued to escalate their rivalry.

Not anymore.

From this point forward, as far as James was concerned, he and Snape were openly at war, and he would do whatever he had to do to win. Never again would he show Snape even the smallest smidgen of mercy; not when Snape was going to abuse his sympathies so brazenly. James would show Snivellus if it was the last thing he ever did. James would teach him to attack people who were trying to help him, and to call people worthless.

James felt his features harden as he walked back to the common room, mind racing with all the things he would do: things he never would have dreamed of this morning, but that now made his heart race with fantasies of revenge and justice. He would start tonight, and Snivelly would never know what hit him. A very eager, very mischievous sort of smile adorned James' face as he walked.

"Sirius," he said calmly. "I have an idea."


	30. Sirius: 23 April, 1972

Sirius: 23 April, 1972

"Are you sure spell-o-tape will hold him?" James asked.

"Yes," Remus replied. "We just have to make sure we use enough." There was a small pause as James rummaged around in his satchel.

"I've got three rolls. That ought to be enough, yeah?"

"I should think so," Peter noted.

"We're not really going to hurt him, right?" Remus asked. Sirius could almost hear the anxiety in his voice, though tonight was one of the few times Remus had not needed much persuading to come along with them. Snape had finally crossed a line even Remus couldn't forgive.

"No, just teach him a lesson," James assured him.

Remus chewed nervously at his lip. He had great ideas, Remus, but he always backed out at the last minute. "And he won't know it was us?"

"We'll wear my cloak. It'll be fine. You worry too much."

"Come on, let's go," Sirius told the others. The four of them clambered out the portrait hole and climbed under the cloak.

In the dungeons, they split up. Sirius and James would be kidnapping Snape. Remus and Peter hid in an empty closet. Once they had Snape, they would need all four of them to continue.

"Wormwood," Sirius said confidently to the blank wall behind which the Slytherin common room hid. Sirius' heart beat quickly with the thrill of adventure as he and James entered enemy territory. By now, they knew their way around down there almost as well as they knew Gryffindor tower.

They went straight to Snape's bed. "Stupefy," James whispered. It wasn't the first time Sirius wished he could do nonverbal magic. He'd been practicing, but couldn't do much with it yet. Stray thoughts always sneaked into his brain. Just yesterday, he'd been trying it out in Transfiguration, but just as he was about to release the magic Lesley blew him a kiss, and he accidentally turned his matchbox into a locket instead of a mirror. McGonagall told him it was very impressive, and far more advanced than she would have expected for someone his age, but that, all the same, he should stick to the assignment. He had saved the locket; maybe he'd give it Lesley. She sort of deserved it for being able to distract him well enough to make him flub his assignment.

Now that he thought about it, maybe he'd ask Lesley to be his girlfriend. Of all the girls he knew, she was his favorite, after all, and it would be fitting now that James was going out with Gretchen. Best mates dating best mates. Maybe he and James could even talk Mr. Potter into taking them to Hogsmeade and then making himself scarce.

Snape was surprisingly heavy. James grabbed his arms and Sirius his legs as they dragged him out of his dormitory. His head lolled to the side, his mouth open. A thin line of drool streamed down his face. "Gross," James muttered. "Why do I have to take his head? He'll leave grease spots on my robes if he touches them."

"Because this was your idea," Sirius whispered. "No more talking. We don't want anyone to wake up."

Their plan was to frame Snape for the flooding of the Slytherin common room. If they played their cards right, the staff might even think he'd done it the last two times as well, and then maybe he would be expelled. Probably not. Andromeda said they hardly ever expelled anybody, but Sirius reckoned flooding the dungeons was a worthy offense.

In the bathroom, Sirius and James used the spell-o-tape to tape Snivelly to the wall. They would hide in the corridor, under the cloak, and when the staff came, they'd untape Snape and confund him, and he'd be caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, unable to tell the professors that the true perpetrators were watching from less than two feet away.

Sirius and James hadn't told Remus about the part of the plan where Snape would be expelled. He just thought they were planning to get him good and wet. Indeed, once they had him tied up and rennervated, they couldn't resist dumping a bucket of toilet water over his head. He struggled mightily, shooting daggers at them with his cold, piggy eyes, but the tape held. Sirius pointed a wand at his face and, with a word, turned his hair red and gold and made it stick straight out from his head.

"And what have we here?"

Sirius stopped short. He'd have recognized that voice anywhere. He closed his eyes, hoping that if he didn't turn around and face her, she wouldn't really be there.

"Professor!" James cried. "We were just, erm, we were, erm..."

"Rescuing Snape," Peter provided. "A bunch of Slytherins put him in here, and we were trying to get him free."

It wasn't a horrible lie, as lies went, but Sirius knew McGonagall would never buy it. Too many unanswered questions. Of course, Sirius wasn't having any bright ideas at the moment, so he wasn't really in a position to criticize too much. He could feel McGonagall's eyes boring into him. He looked up and saw her studying him in the mirror. Slughorn was there as well, red-faced, working his jaw as though dying to say something, but too angry to get the words out. Sirius' heart fell into his toes; then it leapt into his throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He forced himself to turn and face the music just as McGonagall pounced on Peter and Slughorn waded through the inches-thick water to rescue Snape.

"Don't lie to me, Pettigrew! Do you think me an imbecile?"

Peter shook his head emphatically, his eyes wide. Any moment now, Sirius knew, he was going to crack. Sirius willed him to shut up, but he had already begun stuttering. It was only a matter of time before he began confessing to everything under the sun.

"Confundus," Sirius whispered, pointing his wand at Peter behind his back. James was close enough to hear the whispered incantation and feel the gentle brush of magic slipping by him. He looked at Sirius quizzically. Sirius gave the tiniest shake of his head. James responded with an almost imperceptible nod. Sirius loved that he and James could understand one another so well.

Peter's eyes went out of focus. He fixed McGonagall in his lopsided gaze. "What was the question, professor?"

James let out a little snort of laughter, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. Suddenly, the whole thing seemed horribly ludicrous. Poor Snape looked miserable, his eyes bulging, his mouth still taped shut, his red and gold fringe plastered to his forehead; he probably didn't even know it had been colored yet. Next thing Sirius knew, they were laughing uproariously. Even Peter and Remus joined in, though the former clearly had no clue what he was laughing at, and the latter was probably laughing from nerves more than anything.

McGonagall closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose just as Slughorn untaped Snape's mouth. Snape yelped as the tape came away. That set the Marauders laughing harder.

"They've been flooding the common room all year!" Snape tattled the second he was able to speak. "They've been bragging about it. They took me out of my bed and put my head in the toilet."

"We did not!" Sirius protested, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face. Not while he was awake, anyway. "We only poured water on you."

"From the toilet!" Snape accused. Sirius buried his head in James shoulder, clapping him on the back. He knew he was probably digging his own grave, but he just couldn't make himself stop.

"How did you get the Slytherin password?" Slughorn demanded.

"We don't have the password," Sirius gasped. "Snape's lying to get us into trouble."

McGonagall turned her hawkish stare to Remus, who quailed beneath it.

"Lupin, explain!"

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but only a laugh escaped. "We're sorry!" he giggled. McGonagall threw up her hands in frustration and began to unclog the toilets. Slughorn took over the scolding.

"I'm very disappointed in you boys. What would your parents say if they could see you now? I'm ashamed of you, of all of you. I expected better from you. THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

"We know," Sirius said gravely, trying his hardest to keep the laughter out of his voice. He couldn't quite manage it. He tried to apologize, but he couldn't catch enough breath to do it.

"How did you know we were here?" James asked, gasping for breath.

"Super sensory charm," McGonagall called from the furthest stall. "You'll never be able to outsmart us for long, boys. You should get that through your heads right now." Sirius wasn't so sure. The Marauders had quite a few tricks up their sleeves.

Snape protested loudly as Slughorn pulled the rest of the tape off of him, which made the Marauders scream with laughter. They didn't even sober when McGonagall informed then they'd be caned. Sirius had known that was probably coming, and it was more than worth it to see Snape in such a state.

"Minerva, I think we should see what the headmaster thinks about this," Slughorn said as he began to usher Snape out the door.

The laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Only then did Sirius remember that they had set out tonight trying to get Snape expelled, and now they had been caught red-handed doing the very thing they were hoping would accomplish the task. Suddenly, Sirius' heart was in his toes again. He didn't even want to think about what his parents would do to him. His father would probably lock him in the cellar with the trolls. He was always threatening to, but he never had. Not yet, anyway. Sirius had no doubt he would for something like getting himself expelled from Hogwarts. It would bring shame down on the whole family.

He didn't have to work very hard to fake tears.

"It's a little late to be crying about it now, Black," McGonagall said, no trace of sympathy in her voice. She usually sounded at least a little sympathetic when he cried, even if it didn't make her change her mind about punishing him. Sirius began to fear he had finally pushed her too far.

The march to Dumbledore's office was long and frightening. James and Sirius spent most of it trying to convince Remus that everything would be all right. Peter was walking along behind in a fog, whistling as though he hadn't a care in the world. For the first time since he had met Peter, Sirius wished they could trade places.

Dumbledore's office was on the seventh floor. Sirius tried to console himself with the thought that he wouldn't have far to walk to pack his trunks, but he didn't find the thought very comforting. The quicker he packed, the quicker he'd be locked in with the trolls. He shuddered just thinking about it. Sirius had always been terrified of trolls, ever since he was very young and Bella told him they'd come and steal him from his bed if he was bad. He used to be afraid one was living in his closet, and he still had nightmares about them sometimes.

His father had a troll-leg rubbish bin that he made Sirius wear on his head sometimes when he'd really shamed the family, like the time he talked to a muggle, or the time he made mud pies in his dress robes and showed up to his parents' dinner party covered head to toe in mud. Orion would put the troll-leg on his head and tell him to breathe deeply, and Sirius would obey, because he always obeyed his father, even when he was hurting himself by doing so.

Then his father would tell him he'd be spending the night in the cellar with the trolls, and to just imagine what that would be like. Sometimes Sirius could almost hear their roars in his ears. Then his father would laugh as he cried and begged. He had been so scared he wet himself once, and his father responded by beating him and making him clean up the mess. Then he put the rubbish bin right back on his head, as though nothing had happened. Sirius tried to will McGonagall to change her mind and have pity on them.

He gave himself up for a lost cause as she gave a password to a gargoyle, and the Marauders found themselves being ushered onto a moving staircase.

The bottom few inches of Sirius' robes were wet, and slopped uncomfortably around his ankles as he stepped into Dumbledore's office. It struck him as a very odd thing to be concerned about his last few minutes of life, but he couldn't seem to focus on much else. He looked around the room, trying to look braver than he felt. Remus had completely melted down, and James wasn't far behind. Sirius would have to be strong for all of them now, just as he was always strong for Regulus. He squared his shoulders, ready to take whatever Dumbledore decided to dish out to them.

Sirius was not aware that Dumbledore was capable of looking stern, but he certainly looked stern now. All traces of the eternal twinkle were gone from his blue eyes. He looked horribly sad as he gazed at them down his crooked nose, as though he'd just lost his best friend in the world. It was the sort of look that made a person want to cry in solidarity.

James broke the silence, in a voice barely above a whisper. "We're really sorry, professor. Honestly, we are."

"I have no doubt you are, James," Dumbledore replied. "Now that you've been caught."

James shook his head, but Sirius couldn't help thinking Dumbledore had them pegged. They were always sorry after they'd been caught. It was one of the reasons they tried not to get caught. That and they preferred escaping punishment.

"It wasn't their fault, Professor," Sirius tried, speaking quietly and sincerely. "It was my idea."

"No, it was mine," James corrected.

Sirius shot James a wide-eyed look that said, quite clearly, "Jamie, what are you doing?"

James shook his head in response, which Sirius knew meant he had no intention of letting Sirius take the blame. Sirius wished he would; there was no reason for all four of them to be expelled. Peter wouldn't even know what he'd been expelled for.

"The issue is not whose idea this was," McGonagall scolded. "The issue is destruction of property. Thrice!"

She bellowed the last word, and all the Marauders jumped in response; even Peter. Sirius had never felt so helpless in all his life. He should have been able to protect his friends. Remus buried his face in his hands, sobbing into them. James held his head high, clearly fighting tears. No one moved. Any moment now, Dumbledore would pronounce their sentence, and they would be sent home in shame. Their wands would be snapped, and they would have to get terribly boring undercover muggle jobs.

When Dumbledore did speak, his voice was soft and sad. "I am very disappointed in you, boys. I don't know if you realize, but the four of you are leaders amongst your peers. Your classmates look up to you. You have quite a lot of power here. That means you have a responsibility to set a good example, and that responsibility will only grow as you grow. I would like for you to think about that, and about the sort of example you have set tonight."

Dumbledore's gentle rebuke flooded Sirius with guilt much more than McGonagall's shouting.

"I know you four have something of a rivalry with Mr. Snape, and I would be lying if I said I couldn't understand it, but I can never excuse it. Gryffindors pride themselves on their bravery, but four on one is cowardice."

"Please, sir?" Sirius asked, unable to wait any longer. "What are you going to do to us?"

Dumbledore fixed Sirius with his cerulean gaze. "What would you do if you were in my place?"

Sirius wasn't sure how to answer that. He decided his best bet was to shoot low. He could hardly force his voice louder than a whisper. "Give us detention, I suppose."

Dumbledore's face revealed nothing. "No, Sirius, I do not think that will suffice."

"Please don't expel us," Sirius whispered, feeling close to real tears.

Dumbledore shared a glance with McGonagall before turning his attention back to the Marauders. Sirius found it disconcerting that he couldn't read this man. Usually Sirius could gauge people's moods and tell, at least a little, what they were thinking. Dumbledore's calm demeanor was soothing most of the time, but today, it made Sirius' chest feel tight. He almost wished the man would yell at them. That would have been much better than the heartbreaking disappointment hiding behind his eyes.

"Expel you? I have no intention of expelling you, boys. However, I do wish to impress upon you the seriousness of your actions. What you have done is unacceptable. You may have meant it as a simple prank, but it has very real consequences. You four will clean up the mess you made in the bathroom, without the aid of magic. You will also apologize to Severus Snape first thing in the morning. Am I clear on that?"

"Yes, sir," everyone but James agreed.

"James?"

James took a deep breath. "But sir, he's always picking on us, and no one ever makes him apologize."

"Were I aware of it, I'd have made him. However, this is the first I've heard of it, and I daresay his picking has been a little less... bombastic?"

James' only response was a shrug and a mumbled, "I suppose." It did seem to Sirius to be a touch unfair. Snivellus had already mastered the art of subtlety in a way that the Marauders likely never would. They were men of action; all of them. Snape, on the other hand, preferred to slither in the shadows and strike only when his prey was helpless. Sirius was familiar with this tactic; it was the one his parents used.

Snape wouldn't have known a fair fight if it jumped out and bit him; he knew full well the Marauders were no tattletales, and so he could punish them with impunity when no one else could see, and rat them out mercilessly the second they fought back. The events of tonight showed that quite well; Snape was currently off being petted and comforted, but no one knew what he had done to James just a few short hours ago, and no one would, because James was far too proud to tell. He, like Sirius, much preferred to solve his problems on his own.

"You will then join Mr. Filch for detention every night for two weeks and all day on Saturday and Sunday. You will spend your detentions scrubbing bathrooms, also without the aid of magic. You must understand that someone has had to clean up your messes, so perhaps cleaning up after the messes of others will persuade you to be more careful."

Sirius wasn't sure what to say, but he felt he ought to say something. He mumbled out an almost imperceptible, "yes, sir".

"I will turn you over to your head of house now. However, I leave you with one final thought. Friendship is very important, and the loyalty and bravery you have shown on behalf of one another is admirable. If you will only give him a chance, you might find that you have more in common with Severus Snape than you think, and that he could be your friend, too, if only you would let him.

A look of purest disgust crossed James' face, as though even the thought of having anything in common with Severus, aside from taste in women, was reprehensible.

"You are dismissed, and I trust I will never have to speak to you about this again."

"Come with me, boys," McGonagall ordered in a stern voice.

"Where are we going?" Peter whispered to Sirius as they followed McGonagall glumly.

"Straight to hell," Sirius whispered back.

"Is it nice there?"

"Yes, it's lovely. You'll like it."

"Oh, smashing!"

"Sirius!" James hissed. "Why did you tell him that?"

"I reckoned we didn't all have to be miserable."

"Do you think she'll really cane us? Even after everything Dumbledore did?"

"I suppose we'll find out," Sirius replied darkly as they stepped into McGonagall's office. He was sure she would.

Remus wouldn't stop crying. Sirius sat in his bed, hiding behind the curtains, listening. He wished he knew what to say. He hated hearing Remus cry; it made Sirius feel like a failure for not being able to protect him. Like Regulus, Remus was the sort of person who needed protecting, and Sirius had let him down.

James stuck his head inside the curtains around Sirius' bed. "Can't we do something for him?"

Sirius shrugged sadly. He didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do for Regulus, either, when he had just been beaten. "Just leave him be."

"We can't just leave him be," James protested in a whisper. "He's crying!"

"So? You were crying, too."

"You screamed your head off," Peter accused, coming over to join them. Somehow, Sirius' bed was always the place where everyone congregated. Usually he liked it, but it was very annoying at times like these, when he wanted to be alone.

"I did not!" James cried, raising his voice for the first time. His eyes narrowed, daring Peter to continue.

"Yes, you did," Peter retorted. Sirius rolled his eyes. The cane seemed to have cleared Peter's head, but it didn't do much for his chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease.

The slightest glimmer of anger crossed James' face, but it was gone as soon as it had come. After it disappeared, he relaxed and ran his fingers casually through his hair. "Well, if she's going to go to all the trouble to whack me, I reckon I ought to holler so she'll know she's doing a good job of it. I used to do that for my mum. She's pants at spanking, so I'd yell my head off so she wouldn't feel bad."

Sirius snorted. He couldn't imagine Mrs. Potter smacking anybody, least of all _Jamie, Love_.

"What about your dad? Is he pants at it as well?"

James shook his head, no hint of amusement in his face. "He smacks hard."

"So does my dad," Sirius said, flopping back onto his pillow.

"My dad never smacks me," Peter said softly.

"Never?" James asked incredulously.

Peter shook his head.

"You're so lucky!"

Peter frowned. "No, I'm not. He'd have to pay attention to me to smack me. I'd much rather him smack me than ignore me."

"You don't know how good you've got it," Sirius argued. "If my parents started to ignore me, I'd think I'd died and gone to heaven."

Peter glared at Sirius. "Just shut it, Sirius." Sirius pushed himself up on his elbows to silence Peter with a glare of his own. "Sorry," Peter said, his eyes suddenly downcast. He scurried back to his own bed and shut the curtains. Sirius flopped back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling that Peter had decorated with stars, just for him. Sirius sighed. Damn guilt.

"I'm sorry, Pete," he called. "I shouldn't have said that. I wouldn't really like it if my parents ignored me."

"Leave me alone," came Peter's muted voice.

James moved himself out of the line of fire and found his way to his own bed, where he sat staring at Remus. He had stopped crying, but the Marauders could still hear him whimpering pitifully.

"Remus, please don't cry," James said softly. "It's not so bad."

Remus turned to face James and Sirius. He looked miserable, like he'd just been told his mother had died, or that he could never have ice cream again. "D-d-dumbledore's going to h-hate me now!" he stuttered out, fresh tears springing to his eyes. "And McGonagall and Slughorn!" He buried his head in his pillow as his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.

Peter threw open his curtains and looked at Sirius, purest confusion on his face. Sirius didn't understand it very well himself.

"Why would Dumbledore hate you?" James asked.

"Because I was bad!" Remus wailed, his voice muffled by the pillow.

James glanced at Sirius over his shoulder. "What do you make of this, mate?" his eyes said. Sirius responded with a shrug and an apologetic look that said he had no idea. James made a face that asked what he ought to say. Sirius scratched his head, his expression asking why Dumbledore should care.

"Why would Dumbledore care?" James asked Remus.

"Because I was bad," Remus repeated. "And I got the cane. And my parents are going to be so disappointed. They told me to stay out of trouble!"

"We all got the cane," Sirius replied. "And James and I have had it before, and he doesn't hate us. Neither does McGonagall. Or Slughorn. You just watch. I bet you next time we have Potions, he tells us our prank was clever."

"Yeah," James added. "And then he'll realize what he's said and try to play stern and tell us we shouldn't have done it, but that it was awfully clever."

Sirius smiled a little. James had Slughorn pegged.

"And they don't tell your parents," Sirius added. "So they won't know, unless you're thick enough to tell them."

Remus' cries slowly stilled. "You think so?" he asked, lifting his head.

"I know so," James assured him. "We've been in trouble loads of times. Trust us. We're experts. It's over now. Well, it will be once we apologize to Snivellus."

"Do we have to?" Peter whinged.

"I think so," Sirius groaned. "Dumbledore's not the type of chap to check, I don't think. He'll just trust that we did as he asked, but McGonagall will want to make sure, and I don't think she'd be very happy if she knew we disobeyed."

"How long until breakfast?" Remus asked.

"Only a few minutes," James replied. Their escapade and subsequent trials had kept them out of the common room until sunrise. By the time they arrived in the dormitory, sore and miserable, Dirk and Michael were already awake and, mercifully, in the showers, not that James' caterwauling wouldn't have awoken them had they still been sleeping. Or Remus', for that matter, though his at least was genuine. All James' carrying on was mostly complaint. At least, by the time they got back to the dormitory it was. Sirius supposed he couldn't blame James; he wasn't used to such treatment, after all. The last time they were caned, he came to Sirius to ask in an awed voice how he managed to stay so stoic. Sirius had shrugged and mumbled out that he didn't know, not yet wanting to tell James about his father.

"I don't see why we should have to apologize," Peter grumbled. "I'm not sorry."

"Neither am I," James moped. "And my dad always told me I shouldn't lie."

"Sometimes it's okay to lie," Remus said softly. "But only if you have to."

"Maybe we could just make it look like we're apologizing," James suggested. "And tell Snivelly that if he tells anyone we didn't, we'll hex him into oblivion."

"And tell him if he ever tattles on us like that again, we'll make what he did to James look like a few love pats," Peter added.

"Or lock him on the Astronomy tower all night," James mumbled acidly.

"No," Remus replied resolutely. "We're going to apologize to him, and we're going to do it for real."

Sirius was inclined to agree. He may have only been sorry he got caught, but he didn't think stirring up trouble was the smartest thing to do at the moment. "Remus is right. We have to at least pretend like we're sorry."

"I really am sorry," Remus commented.

"I'm not," James spat. "But I supposed I can pretend for a few minutes, if I have to."

"Sorry, mate, but I think you have to," Sirius said. That was the end of the discussion.

When the Marauders marched into breakfast, standing shoulder to shoulder, they showed no sign of having been punished. Except for Remus, who glanced nervously at the staff table, they were the picture of confidence. They made their way over to the Slytherin table and surrounded Snape. Sirius pulled out a chair and sat in it backward. James sat on the table, resting his feet on a seat. Peter turned a chair against the table, lolling in it, his feet stuck out in the aisle. Only Remus hesitated, chewing on his lip.

"We came to tell you we're sorry," Sirius said.

"Even though we're not," James muttered under his breath. Sirius didn't think Snape had heard, but he elbowed James in the ribs just in case. James made a little "oof" and then fell silent.

"We shouldn't have done that," Remus said in a near-whisper. "Will you please forgive us?"

Snape looked at the Marauders, studying them for a moment before he replied, his voice soft and deadly. "Shove off." Without another word, he turned back to his breakfast.

The Marauders stared at one another quizzically. Sirius rose as casually as he could, never letting his confident smile fade. That was one of the many things that had been beaten into him: a facade to show the world. A mask to hide the secrets. A perfect smile for the camera.

They were nearly to the Gryffindor table when Lily marched up to them, quaking with rage.

James smiled wide. "Lily!"

Lily slapped him. Hard.

"What's the big idea?" Peter asked. Lily slapped him, too. Then she slapped Remus, and finally Sirius.

"Why is everyone always hitting me?" Sirius cried, clenching his fists in frustration.

"You deserve it!" Lily spat, narrowing her eyes. She waved her finger in James' face. He took a quick step backward, clearly thinking he was about to be slapped again. "I heard about what you did to Sev, and you should be ashamed of yourselves. I can't believe I thought about being friends with you. With any of you!"

"Lily, wait!" James tried, but it was no use. Lily turned in a huff, whipping her hair emphatically. For the first time, James looked a little sorry, until the Marauders looked back at Snape and saw him and his friends laughing at them. James took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Sirius braced himself for the announcement he knew was coming.

"I'm going to get that arsehole one of these days."

Sirius let out his breath. He knew it was true, and he suspected the Marauders had seen only the beginning.


	31. Peter: 7 May, 1972

Peter: 7 May, 1972

Peter never wanted to see another bathroom. He had scrubbed more of them in the last two weeks than he cared to think about - more of them than he even knew existed at Hogwarts. He was beginning to suspect Dumbledore was conjuring them just so the Marauders would have more work to do. He also suspected foul play in the dirt department. There was simply no other explanation for how these bathrooms managed to stay so indescribably grotty.

Bathrooms had never been something Peter wanted to spend much time reflecting upon, yet he couldn't avoid it when he spent so much of his time inspecting them up close. Peter was surprised by how many mysteries surrounded a bathroom; questions Peter wished he'd never even known existed. Why, for instance, did girls' bathrooms always have so much hair in them? Hair in the sinks, hair in the drains, hair on the floor, hair on the toilet seats. Judging by the sheer volume of hair they lost every day, it was a wonder all the girls of Hogwarts weren't as bald as Lily Evans.

Then there was the mystery of why boys suddenly lost the ability to aim in their third year. First years could aim. Second years could aim. Would Peter, too, suddenly lose his aiming skills when he turned thirteen? Why, also, did the aiming skills suddenly reappear in sixth year? Peter didn't know the explanation, but he knew it was so.

Why did so few people put the toilet paper in the toilet? Why couldn't the sixth and seventh years rinse out the sink after they had shaved? Why did so many of the girls' bathrooms have sofas in them? What reason could a person possibly have for lying down on a sofa in a bathroom? Didn't girls have beds for that sort of thing? And how, O Dear God _how_ did the floors of a bathroom get so nasty? Peter would have expected the toilets to be nasty, but the floor? What were people doing down there? Besides aiming badly, of course.

Peter pulled out of his crouch and sat dejectedly on the nasty floor. He had long since passed the point of caring what was on his robes. He was likely growing things in there. With any luck, it would be a new species that would bring him fame and fortune, or, better yet, eat him, so he'd never have to clean another bathroom.

James was glaring at a toilet. To keep them from using magic while he wasn't looking, Filch confiscated their wands at the beginning of every detention. For the last twenty minutes, James had been trying to clean the toilet via wandless magic. He spent a fair amount of time doing that every day. It never worked.

"They give us wands for a reason, mate," Remus said casually.

James sighed. "I used to do wandless magic all the time."

"_Accidental _wandless magic," Sirius corrected. "Maybe you need to lose your temper. You want me to start insulting you?"

"Nah, there's a better chance I'd blow it up," James noted. Peter couldn't help thinking that was probably true. James had quite the temper. Peter liked James a lot, but he sincerely hoped James never grew angry with him.

"That's a pity. I know some wicked insults."

"What good is magic if you can't use it when you need it?" James whinged.

"You can. You just have to have a wand," Remus commented, wiping at a mirror. He was the only one of them who worked through the whole detention. The rest of them took breaks as often as they could get away with it and only halfheartedly cleaned when they couldn't. Remus scrubbed as though his life depended on it, trying to regain the good favor he imagined he'd lost.

"I turned my mother into a canary when I was eight," James reported proudly.

Sirius snorted. "Why did you do that?"

"It was an accident. Though I did have a wand. I stole hers. It was her birthday, and I was trying to make her a present, and when she found me she yelled, so I turned her into a canary. I couldn't turn her back, so I had to wait until my dad came home. He went mental! And then my mum chirped for three days."

Peter laughed. "You turned your mum into a canary on her birthday?"

James nodded, beaming. "My dad said it was a good bit of magic, and that I was probably very talented."

"You're the only person in the world whose parents compliment him for getting into trouble," Sirius noted, shaking his head.

James shrugged. "He punished me, too, but then we went out for ice cream to cheer everybody up because we were all sad, and no one's supposed to be sad at a birthday, and while we were in Diagon Alley, Dad bought me a toy wand so I wouldn't be tempted to steal Mum's anymore. So all in all, it wasn't a bad day."

Sirius shook his head some more. "I wish I had your parents, mate. Break the rules and get a toy wand out of the deal." Peter thought he heard a twinge of jealousy in Sirius' voice, but was sure he was wrong. Sirius was from a wonderful family, after all. The sort of family Peter always wished he had been born into. James' family was good as well, of course, but the Blacks were very nearly royalty in the high society of the magical community. Sirius would have to be a fool to wish that away.

"I stole my dad's wand once," Remus reported gravely. "I was six, I think, or maybe seven. I thought maybe I could find a cure for... I mean, I thought I could fix something. I ended up turning my face green. My mother thought I'd caught dragon pox. She rushed me off to St. Mungo's before I could tell her. Blimey was she angry when she found out. I didn't think she'd ever stop shouting."

"In French?" Sirius asked, sharing a knowing smile with James.

Remus nodded. "If she's angry enough to shout, it's always in French. She doesn't get angry often, though. She usually smiles a lot."

"My mum smiles a lot, too," James agreed. Peter tried not to scowl. His mother hardly ever smiled, and the Marauders knew it quite well. It seemed to Peter they ought to find a different subject to discuss: one that wasn't so painful for him.

"And she sings," Sirius added.

"Mine sings, too. She sings songs in French." Remus began to hum a tune, and a moment later Sirius started singing in French. Peter forgot, sometimes, how good his voice was. Remus joined in. He wasn't bad, either. Peter liked to sing, though Sirius said he was pants at it. He took a little comfort in the knowledge that he was better at it than James. Peter could at least hit the right notes, even if he didn't sound particularly pleasant while doing it. James couldn't even do that.

The Marauders had only heard him sing three times - at Peter's birthday party, at Remus' birthday party, and one day in the hospital wing when he had burst spontaneously into a boisterous song and dance trying to cheer Remus up after his last bout with his illness. He didn't stop, even after Madame Pomfrey came in and tried to kick him out. She had to set a silencing charm on him, and even then he continued to dance, jumping on the beds. Even Madame Pomfrey began to laugh at his antics. Remus said laughing so hard did more to make him feel better than anything Pomfrey did.

"I used to steal my mum's wand all the time," Peter reported when the song had ended. "I never got caught, though."

"My father used to give me his wand so I could practice. He wanted me to know all the basic spells before I came," Sirius said, rinsing a sink. He tossed a little water at Remus. Remus paused long enough to give him a withering look and returned to scouring the mirror.

"Isn't that illegal?" James asked.

"Technically, but our house is protected, so the Ministry can't find out. And even if they did find out, no one would do anything about it. No one ever does anything about any of the things my father does. He bribes all the right people."

Sometimes Peter grew tired of James and Sirius' constant bragging about their families.

"Wicked!" James exclaimed. "My parents never let me do magic. They probably won't let me once I'm home, either. Can I come to your house sometime?"

Sirius shrugged and mumbled something imperceptible, burying himself in his scrubbing. James' face fell. "Never mind." He went back to his toilet, actually scrubbing it this time. Well, scrubbing in its general direction. Peter hauled himself up and resumed wiping up the floor, wondering what had happened that could make James and Sirius turn so suddenly grave. It wasn't as though either of them had a worry in the world.

That was the difference between Peter and the other Marauders, really. Peter had important things to be getting on with. Well, Remus did too, he supposed. He and his mother were both sick so often, but James and Sirius, they had probably never had a real problem in the whole of their charmed existence.

When Peter told Delilah over the Christmas holidays that he was friends with a Black, she told Peter to fight for that friendship: that being friends with a Black would help him down the road. A Black could get him a great job at the ministry, regardless of his marks. A Black could introduce him to powerful people who could do good things for him. A Black could help Peter renew the good name of the Pettigrews.

They had been a good family once, the Pettigrews, before his mother retreated into herself and his father ran them into the ground. They weren't as old as the Blacks or the Potters, but they were influential and rich and powerful and well-respected. But no more. His parents had seen to that.

"What sorts of things does your father do?" Peter asked.

Sirius lifted his head out of the sink and turned to glare at Peter. He had a certain way of glaring that made Peter want to apologize for breathing. It was the same way McGonagall would glare at him when she was angry: the sort of glare that made him wish he could dissolve into a puddle on the floor.

"He doesn't do anything. He's an upstanding citizen."

"But you just said-"

"Shut up, Worm Guts!" Sirius shouted. "I didn't say anything, do you hear me? Nothing!" Remus stopped scrubbing. James came out of his stall.

Sirius stood in the middle of the bathroom glaring at Peter, shaking with rage. Peter backed away until he hit the wall. He wished Remus or James would come rescue him, but neither of them said anything. Slowly, Sirius calmed. He exhaled loudly and wiped his forehead with his forearm. "Sorry. Just forget I said anything about my father."

Peter nodded. The rest of their final detention passed in eerie silence.

There were only three showers in their dormitory bathroom, which the Marauders had scrubbed meticulously just yesterday. There was a brief scuffle over who would have to wait for access, but a quick game of fire, water, broomstick made Peter the odd man out. He sat on the floor in the bathroom as the others washed, trying not to feel glum. Fire, water, broomstick was a stupid game anyway. He could understand how water could beat fire, and how fire could beat broomstick, but on what planet could broomsticks beat water? The next time someone tried to tell him broomsticks beat water, he was going to tell them to go try flying in the lake.

Sirius came out of the showers first, fully dressed and humming a cheerful tune, happy as a house elf, as though he hadn't exploded and ruined everyone else's evening. Peter climbed into the shower as quickly as he could, eager to wash the grime off. He was just finishing soaping himself for the second time when he found himself dashed with icy water. He yelped and jumped, trying to get out of the icy rain. He heard Sirius and James' laughter outside.

Peter stuck his head outside the shower curtain and saw them there, doubled over with laughter. Peter glared at them, trying to emulate the look Sirius had mastered so well, wishing he could see them as the ones apologizing to him for once. "I hate you both," he hissed.

"Oh, get over it," Sirius replied dismissively, brandishing a bucket. It looked frighteningly like the bucket Peter had just been using to scrub mysteriously nasty bathroom floors.

"Where did you get that bucket? Is that one of the buckets we were just using to-"

"No, of course not!" James said. "This one is clean. We nicked it-"

"Liberated it," Sirius corrected.

"Right you are, mate. We liberated it from Filch's office, along with a few other choice items." James grinned mischievously. "Do you have any idea how many fireworks he has down there?"

"He ought to," Sirius added. "He's been stealing them from students all year."

Peter began to shiver. He pulled his head back into the shower and stood under the hot water, turning it up until it steamed. Sirius and James' laughter continued for only a few more moments and then stopped. Peter hoped they'd gone to torment someone else for awhile.

When Peter came out of the shower, Remus was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. "Were you part of the ice water plot?" Peter asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Remus shook his head and spit out his toothpaste. "No, but I heard you yell."

"Why do they always pick on me?" Peter asked, stomping over to the sink to brush his own teeth.

"It's not just you. They did it to me a few weeks ago. They won't tell me the spell to get it so cold, so we can't do it back. Well, we could get ice water the usual way, but it would probably take too long."

"But they never yell at you," Peter pouted, not sure what else to say. "I'm the only one Sirius yelled at today."

"You know why he did, though, right?"

"Because he's a git?"

"No. Wasn't it obvious? He was scared. He was afraid we were going to tell his father what he said."

"Why would he worry about that?"

Remus met Peter's eyes in the mirror and shrugged. "I only know he was. Couldn't you see him shaking?"

"I thought that was because he was so angry."

Remus' only response was a shake of the head. He shook out his toothbrush and left Peter alone in the bathroom, thinking. It was hard for him to imagine Sirius scared. Sirius always seemed fearless, untouchable, cool. He was brave when Peter wanted to run away, strong when Peter wanted to cry, and calm when Peter had long since begun to panic. Peter was glad Sirius was a Marauder, he supposed, though he couldn't quite shake the feeling that Sirius didn't like him.

Peter trudged out of the bathroom, not quite sure what to think. On the one hand, he found himself tiring of Sirius' poor little rich boy routine. A person born with a silver spoon had nothing to complain about, and he certainly had nothing to fear. On the other, Peter had never seen Sirius scared before, no matter what he was facing. It seemed to Peter that Sirius' father must have done something awful to get him to be that scared. Then again, James worried about disappointing his parents, and they never did anything frightening. Even when he misbehaved, he apparently got toys and sweets out of the deal, so maybe Sirius was just being dramatic. Yes, Peter decided, that must have been it.

Sirius and James sat on Sirius' bed playing chess. Remus sat on James' bed, watching. James and Remus wore their pajamas. Sirius' pajamas were green with silver stripes, in anticipation of his being sorted into Slytherin. He asked his parents for new ones after he came to Gryffindor, but they ignored him. Now, Sirius refused to wear them, sleeping instead in only his underpants.

He and James cut the pajamas into little pieces and used them to fashion a very crude snake, which they charmed to move whenever someone walked by. They said they were going to hide it in the Slytherin common room one night, but mostly they just hid it in their dormmates' beds. Peter still fell for it every time; he was the only one who did. Remus had got to where he just rolled his eyes and knocked it onto the floor. Dirk would laugh and hide it in one of their beds. Only Michael had no sense of humor about it, scolding them for their childish pranks. Naturally, the only thing he had managed to accomplish was making himself into one of their favorite targets.

Peter wandered over to sit with Remus and watch them for a few minutes, but he had learned that watching a chess game was very dull. Judging by the look of consternation of Sirius' face, James was winning. Peter liked it when James won; he thought it was good for Sirius to lose at something every once and again.

After a few minutes, Peter bored of watching chess and made his way to his own bed. He stopped short when he pulled aside the curtains.

"Erm, James?" he called.

"Yeah?"

"You really should come see this."

All the Marauders came and stared at Peter's bed. James grew misty-eyed as he looked at the spectacle there.

"My cat's a mummy!" As though in response, Griselda licked at one of her kittens and blinked at the Marauders proudly. James reached out to scratch her head, and she purred, leaning into his touch.

"Your cat's a trollop," Sirius corrected.

James rounded on him. "You take that back!"

"But it's true. How else would she be having kittens? You do know where babies come from, right?"

"Of course I do! But my cat's not a trollop! She's a cat! You take it back right now!"

"Or you'll what?"

James had to think about that for a few moments. "Or I'll tell everyone your real middle name."

Sirius blanched. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

"If you did, I'd tell everyone that you still wet the bed."

"I do not!"

"So? Everyone will believe me if I say you do. I can be awfully convincing."

James and Sirius glared at each other as though there were nothing in the world more important than their quarrel. As though James' cat hadn't just had kittens on Peter's pillow.

"What is your middle name, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Lee," Sirius replied, without looking away from James.

"Sirius Lee Black?" Peter asked.

"That's right," Sirius assured him.

Remus let out a little snort of laughter. "I get it! So what is it really?"

"Lee," Sirius repeated.

James broke his eye contact with Sirius and turned toward Remus and Peter, a triumphant look on his face. "No, it isn't, it's-"

But what it was, they never heard, because Sirius clamped a hand over James' mouth. A moment later, he jerked his hand away. "Ew! You licked me!"

"Mmm-hmm," James said proudly.

"Fine, you win, you prat. Your cat's not a trollop."

"Excuse me!" Peter interrupted. "But your cat had kittens _on my pillow_."

"I think that means she likes you," James provided hopefully.

"I don't care! Get them off my pillow!"

"I don't think you're supposed to move them so soon after they've been born," Remus said.

"Aren't they beautiful," James exclaimed. He touched one lightly, and it mewed in response.

Peter thought they were rather hideous, but he wasn't about to say so in front of James. He had punched people for less.

Remus sat softly on Peter's bed and lifted a kitten gently. It nuzzled into his pajamas. "They're precious," he agreed.

Sirius dropped to his knees next to the bed and began to rub the nearest kitten with the back of his finger. "They're so tiny!"

"Good kitty," James cooed at Griselda. "You had a busy day, didn't you? I didn't even know she was pregnant."

"I noticed she was getting a little fat," Remus commented. "But I thought you were just giving her too many treats."

James brightened suddenly. "I bet Lily would like to see this. She loves Griselda!"

Before anyone could say a word, James was out the door. He returned a few minutes later with what Peter was sure was every girl in their house. Peter had underestimated girls' ability to shriek when in the presence of something they had deemed "cute".

"Oh, look at the little calico!" Gretchen exclaimed.

"It is adorable, isn't it?" Lily agreed.

"It's yours," James told her. He picked up the calico and thrust it at her. Gretchen looked on, envy written clear as day across her features.

Lily took the kitten and put it back with Griselda, who looked none too happy to have all these strangers staring at her brood. "James!" Lily scolded. "They can't be separated from their mother yet!"

"Oh," James replied dully. "Well, when they can, it's yours."

"And what about me?" Gretchen asked.

"You?" James repeated. "Oh, yes you! You can have one, too!"

"What if I wanted the calico?"

"Sorry, I already gave that one to Lily."

Gretchen turned on her heel and stomped out of the room. James turned his attentions to Lily until Sirius came and whispered in his ear.

"I should go check on Gretchen," he told Lily apologetically.

"Tell her she can have the calico. I don't think my parents would let me have a cat anyway. My sister's allergic."

"Are you sure?" James asked. He and Lily were standing awfully close. James looked at her with a glow in his eyes, as though she were the only woman in the world. Peter had heard of there being sparks between people before, but he had never really understood what it meant. Now, he did; he could almost see little jolts of electricity passing between them. James was beginning to blush. Peter didn't know if he'd ever seen James blush before.

Lily nodded slowly. "I'm sure."

James took a step closer to her. "You have the most beautiful eyes. They remind me of Springtime, when all the leaves come home. I always liked Springtime best."

Lily smiled shyly, blushing herself. "I like it, too. I always loved flowers."

"Lily, what are you doing?" Lesley interrupted. She watched James and Lily with an accusation on her face.

Lily took a step away from James and straightened her robes. "Nothing. We were just talking."

"He was asking her what Gretchen might like for her birthday," Sirius said. "What do you think she'd like?"

He pulled Lesley to the side to continue their conversation in whispers. James and Sirius shared a look over her shoulder, and James mouthed, "thanks" before taking off out the door. Peter wished he and Remus were as close as Sirius and James were. He also wished all the girls would leave and all the kittens would get off of his pillow so he could go to sleep. He'd been scrubbing bathrooms since breakfast, after all.

"I think we should go see Hagrid and ask him about the kittens," Remus whispered, sidling up to Peter. "We can't just leave them on your bed."

"Oh thank goodness. I was starting to worry that James was going to just leave them there and I'd have to sleep on the floor."

"Nah. He wouldn't make you sleep on the floor."

"I don't know. He really likes that cat."

Remus snorted. "That is true. I think he likes the cat better than he likes quidditch. But if he did take over your bed, you could always just take his. Turnabout is fair play, after all."

Peter curled his lip. "Do you really think he'd stand for that?"

"Fair point. Well, you could go sleep in the common room. The sofas are pretty comfortable, and I'd come with you. I don't think you have anything to worry about, though."

Peter sighed loudly. "You reckon we can get all these girls to leave?"

Remus threw up his hands. "We could try."

It took several minutes for Peter, Remus, and eventually Sirius to round up all the tourists and kick them out of the dormitory.

"I don't think we need to see Hagrid," Sirius decided after all the girls were gone and Remus had explained their plan. "We just need a box, and maybe a blanket. Where's James?"

"Still downstairs," Peter reminded him.

"Well, go get him. It's his cat. He should be the one doing all of this."

Peter trotted off obediently, wondering how Sirius always managed to make him hop to attention. Peter found James with Gretchen, flirting in a silent corner. He stood in the middle of the common room, wondering what he ought to do. He doubted Sirius would appreciate it if he returned without James. He also doubted James would appreciate being interrupted. As though to punctuate the point, James and Gretchen kissed. James smiled sweetly at her and ran his fingers through her curls. He whispered something that made her blush furiously and smack his shoulder.

Peter decided James shouldn't be interrupted at a time like this and returned to his dormitory. "James is busy... snogging..."

"Good for him!" Sirius said approvingly. He went over to James' trunk and stole the invisibility cloak.

"Are you sure James will be all right with that?" Remus asked.

Sirius nodded assuredly. "He doesn't care. He told me I could take it any time I needed it. I take it at night while he's sleeping all the time."

Sirius gave everyone an assignment. He was always in his element when he had the opportunity to be bossy. Peter was to sneak down to the kitchens and enlist the help of a house elf; he'd need clean sheets and a new pillow, after all. Sirius and Remus would go down to the dungeons to nick a box off of Filch. Peter thought it would be better for them to stay together - and with the cloak - but Sirius voted him down. Peter didn't quite understand how Sirius was able to vote him down all by himself, but he could. Sirius really didn't understand democracy very well.

When Peter returned, James was sitting on Peter's bed, cooing at Griselda and the kittens. He held the calico in his lap, stroking it. Remus and Sirius were nowhere to be found.

Peter cleared his throat. James look up. "Hey!" He smiled happily at Peter before turning his attentions back to the kittens. "Where are Remus and Sirius?"

"They went to the dungeons to nick a box from Filch's office. We thought we could move the kittens in there."

"Good idea," James agreed. "Do you want to hold one?" He held the calico out to Peter.

Peter shook his head. He had never much liked cats. He found them a little creepy. He could never tell what they were thinking. Griselda was one of the worst offenders about that. One moment, she'd be butting Peter's hand with her head, meowing for attention. Next moment, she'd be scratching him. James always proclaimed her innocence, even when it was Remus or Sirius who got scratched. For some reason, she never scratched James, and so he was able to remain blissfully ignorant on the subject of his cat's capriciousness. Peter came to look at the kittens. They were a little cute, he supposed. Their eyes were closed; that made them cuter in Peter's opinion. Cat eyes had always weirded him out. There was something so very alien about them, and they always seemed to be glaring, as though they were constantly plotting ways to kill you and eat your spleen.

Remus and Sirius appeared with a box large enough for the cat as Riley the house elf apparated into the room. He insisted on cleaning Peter's bed as the Marauders moved the kittens. James tucked his red and gold quilt into the box, contending that they needed something soft to sleep on. Then he lifted Griselda away while the rest of the Marauders moved the kittens. She howled in protest, but did not fight him. Instead, she buried her head in the crook of his arm.

"It's okay, kitty. It's only for a minute. I promise." He petted her as Sirius, Remus, and Peter moved the kittens. There were five of them, and Peter had to wonder at how small they were: so small he could hold two of them in the palm of his hand. He cradled one close and felt an unexpected little surge of affection for it.

"They are cute, aren't they?" he said to no one in particular.

"Of course they are," James cooed to Griselda, who had begun trying to get away from him. "You'd never have kittens that weren't cute, would you?"

The moment the kittens had all been moved, James put Griselda into the box with them, and she curled up contentedly, licking each of them in turn.

"There, you see. It's not so bad," James told her. "Now you have your own little house to live in. Sirius, will you draw doors and windows on the box so she feels like it's a house?"

"You know she can't understand you, right?" Sirius asked.

James turned to glare at him. "Of course she can! Can't you, kitty?" Griselda blinked at him meaningfully. Sirius let out a little snort and changed the subject. "So, what happened with Gretchen?"

James launched into the story, jumping with excitement when he got to the part with the kissing. "She says I'm a good kisser!" he reported proudly.

"If you weren't, I'd have to disown you," Sirius replied.

Now it was James' turn to snort as he climbed into bed. "You'd miss me too much."

"I miss your mum's biscuits too much," Sirius retorted, sitting on James' bed as well.

"I'll take that," James replied with a smile. "Want to finish our chess game?"

Remus sat on his bed to watch the game and perhaps play the winner, but Peter could hardly keep his eyes open. He climbed into his own bed, glad that it was now clean. His new pillow was firmer than the old one, and he found he liked it. He pulled the curtains just as James launched into another story about his own awesomeness and fell asleep listening to the mewling of the kittens and the whispered laughter of his friends. All in all, it wasn't a bad lullaby.


	32. Remus: 20 May, 1972

Remus: 20 May, 1972

It was a beautiful day. So beautiful it almost hurt. It was the sort of day Remus loved; warm and poetic, with a light breeze that ruffled his hair and a million sunbeams sparkling on the water. Remus almost expected a robin to come land on his shoulder and sing to him; it was that sort of day. Several of the trees on the grounds had burst seemingly overnight into breathtakingly pink blossoms that now fell around the Marauders and floated past their feet as they dangled them in the lake. It felt like something out of a fairy story.

Remus was happy. So happy he thought it would explode out of him at any moment. He smiled as he watched a pink flower fall and land in Sirius' hair. It was long now, past his shoulders. His mother would make him cut it, he said, when he went home for the summer. It was difficult for Remus to believe the summer holidays were only a little over a month away. He wasn't sure he wanted to go. He missed his parents, sure, but the thought of two whole months without the Marauders left him feeling a touch empty, like a very wonderful cup of cocoa with only two sips left inside it.

"Did you know there are mermaids in the lake?" Sirius asked absently. Remus nodded. He had read that recently in _Hogwarts, a History_.

"Nuh-uh!" Peter replied.

"Yes there are," Sirius corrected with an air of authority. Sirius always spoke with an air of authority, it seemed. Sometimes he would say things and Remus would nod along, convinced that Sirius had just said the wisest and most logical thing in the world. Then, as soon as Sirius had wandered away and Remus had a moment to think about it, he would realize that throwing Snape into that vanishing cabinet they had found was a horrible idea, and that Snape was sure to know it had been them even with a confundus charm, and that he would almost certainly tell anyone who'd listen because he always tattled on them if he had the chance, and then they'd end up in trouble.

Remus was glad he had decided to put his foot down on that one, and glad the others had decided not to try it without him, though Remus supposed it was only a matter of time. Once James and Sirius got it into their heads to do something, they generally did it, and no one could stop them. Besides that, James could hold one hell of a grudge, and Snape was his current favorite target. Remus couldn't blame him really, but still. He did wish James wouldn't include his friends in his machinations quite so often.

James could speak authoritatively as well, though he didn't do it nearly as often as Sirius did. Remus suspected it was an accident when James did it, while Sirius was usually doing it on purpose. Still, when James used his authoritative tone, Remus found himself going along. He'd landed himself in quite a lot of hot water that way.

They had come out here after lunch to enjoy the warmth. They tossed a quaffle until they tired of it. Peter was getting better at catching under James' constant - and surprisingly patient - tutelage. Then they had found their spot by the lake, and James had pulled out his harmonica. He was getting very good at it, and Sirius had somehow acquired a ukulele that he was fast mastering. The two of them had begun playing together. Just that morning Sirius said they were going to start a band and become even better than the Howling Hippogriffs. All they needed was for Remus to learn to play piano and for Peter to learn drums.

Peter had protested, asking why he had to learn to play drums, but Sirius had replied, with all his authority, that Peter would have to play drums because the piano player needed to be able to sing backup, and Peter couldn't sing. Only Remus had seen the disappointment on Peter's face, so he had whispered to Peter that Sirius didn't know what he was talking about and that Peter was a fine singer, and Peter had cheered.

It occurred to Remus very suddenly that he hadn't heard anything from James in a while, and it wasn't like James to be quiet for long. Remus looked over and saw James leaning against the tree trunk with his hands behind his head. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even.

"Is he asleep?" Sirius whispered, following Remus' gaze. Remus nodded.

"Wake him up," Sirius ordered.

Remus shook his head. James wasn't the most pleasant person when he was awakened. Just last week, Remus had lost the game of fire, water, broomstick that would decide who had to wake James when he fell asleep in History of Magic. When Remus nudged him, James had awoken just enough to fix Remus with a frightening glare and tell him to leave him the hell alone and that he, James, wasn't afraid to kick Remus in the shins. Remus had been relatively sure James wouldn't really kick him, but he stepped out of kicking range anyway just to be safe and woke James by throwing his textbooks on the floor one by one. It took three of them before James finally groused, "Okay, I'm up! You don't have to be a prick about it!"

Five minutes later, once he had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he had become the lovely person he typically was. Usually it wasn't an issue, since James was good about waking himself in the mornings and staying away from people until he had managed to wake up enough to be pleasant. It was only when he fell asleep at odd hours that there was a problem. History of Magic was the worst. Remus wondered sometimes why they went wandering on the nights before History of Magic, but it seemed they always did.

"Why do we have to wake him up?" Peter asked. "He's not hurting anything sleeping."

"Until he starts to snore," Sirius replied. As if on cue, James let out a small snort and Sirius reached over and pushed him in the lake.

"Sirius!" Remus chided. Peter laughed, but stopped suddenly when Remus shot him his best stern look. He had grown good at his stern look lately. It was sometimes the only defense he had against the rest of the Marauders. For some reason, they respected it. Remus wasn't sure why, since he had absolutely nothing to back it up with, but he wasn't going to look a gift thestral in the mouth.

Remus peered into the water. Ripples flowed out from where James had gone in, splashing delightfully upon the shore. James did not reappear.

Seconds passed.

James still did not reappear.

Peter began to panic.

Minutes passed, feeling like hours.

"Where is he? Why isn't he coming up?" Remus asked, his voice rising with his own panic. He sat rooted to the spot. He should jump in after James. He should run for help. He should at least yell, but he couldn't do anything. His heart beat with terror; his best mate could be drowning this very instant, and he was sitting here like an idiot, doing nothing.

"He'll come up," Sirius said decisively.

The seconds dragged.

Peter began to whimper. "He's dead, I know he is. Oh, God, he's dead. He's dead. He's dead."

"He's not dead," Sirius replied, but he didn't sound very sure.

A moment later there was a splash as Peter jumped into the water. He dived down where James had fallen in and came up with him a moment later. Sirius and Remus waded in to bring him to shore. He was pale, almost blue. His glasses had stayed on his face, but they were askew. A piece of algae clung to his hair. They put him down on the bank.

"Is he breathing?" Remus asked. He looked at James' chest; he didn't appear to be breathing.

"He's not breathing!" Peter wailed. "What should we do? What should we do!" His voice had gone to a pitch only dogs could hear, and tears began to course down his cheeks.

Remus couldn't breathe.

James was dead.

James couldn't be dead! He was twelve! Twelve-year-olds didn't die!

Especially not twelve-year-olds like James. His personality could fill a room. He was far too full of life to ever die.

Remus suddenly felt dizzy. Tears stung his eyes. His best mate was dead.

Sirius dropped to his knees next to James. Remus dropped to his knees on the other side, ready to follow Sirius' instructions. He was sure Sirius would know what to do. Sirius always knew what to do. Peter stood to the side, doubled over, trying to catch his breath, a task made much more difficult by the fact that he was now weeping.

Sirius put his head close to James' mouth to listen for breath. James spit a stream of water into his face.

He sat up, a smile on his face. "Well, it's good to know who your friends are." He looked back and forth between Remus and Sirius as he pulled out his wand and began to dry his robes. "Honestly, if it were up to the two of you, I'd have floated all the way to Hogsmeade before anyone bothered to come in after me. Peter, you win the bravery award."

Remus' mouth fell open in shock. His tears stilled. "You were joking?" he shrieked.

"Of course I was joking. You didn't really think I'd drown two feet from shore, did you? The water's not even over my head there!"

Even after, Remus would not have been able to say what had possessed him, but anger coursed through him suddenly. He punched James in the shoulder. Hard. Hard enough that it hurt his hand. "We thought you were dead!" he said through gritted teeth. Some people shouted when they were angry, but Remus had always grown quieter. His father was the same way. Whispers always preceded Daniel's explosions. Like his father's, Remus' anger was rare, and even when furious he was able to remain calm, though he grew scathing, saying things he never would have said in a good temper. Things designed to wound. Things he would hate himself for later.

"Ow!" James grimaced, putting a hand to his shoulder. "What the hell?"

Sirius punched the other shoulder. "That wasn't funny! We were scared to death!"

"Would you two stop punching me!" James protested loudly.

"You deserve it!" Remus snapped. He fought the urge to punch James again. He had never punched anyone before, but it seemed the thing to do.

"Sirius was the one who threw me in the water!"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "How did you know that? You were sleeping!"

James' eyes went suddenly shifty. "Well, erm, Remus or Peter wouldn't throw me in the water."

"Peter would throw you in the water," Sirius said.

"I would throw you in the water," Peter agreed. His tears had stopped, though they were still pooled in his eyes. "I might throw you in the water right now."

James seemed unconcerned about Peter's threat.

"You weren't really sleeping," Sirius accused.

James ran a hand through his hair. "All right, fine. I was resting my eyes, and then I pretended to be sleeping."

"Then you pretended to drown?" Remus whispered. He bit down all the awful things he wanted to say to James and instead began to silently recite all the things he liked about James. James was kind. He was generous. He was funny. He was selfless.

"I thought it would be funny," James said, looking away.

He was a dunderhead.

Remus stopped reciting things he liked about James and instead informed James that he was a dunderhead. That he was a dunderhead even amongst dunderheads. That it was amazing such a dunderhead could ever manage to dress himself in the morning and that he, Remus, was never going to speak to him again. He did all of this while glaring with all the intensity he could muster. Judging from the look on James' face, the effect was chilling.

"Merlin's beard, Remus. It was only a joke," James muttered. He at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself.

Sirius punched him again. "Pretending to die is not funny, you dolt!"

"Oi! Do that again, and I'm going to punch you back!"

For a moment, Remus was afraid Sirius was going to punch him again and they were going to have a full-scale fight on their hands. The thought of his friends fighting was disconcerting, but the thought of James and Sirius fighting was downright terrifying. Things always seemed to escalate very quickly where the two of them were concerned.

Instead, they heard a very unpleasant laugh.

Sirius and James whipped their heads in unison to locate the source of the laughter. It was Snivellus. Remus groaned. Why was it _always_ Snivellus?

"Trouble in paradise?" Snivellus asked with a nasty grin.

James' face, shocked and hurt a moment before, contorted into anger with surprising speed. "What do you want, Snivelly?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at James. "I don't want anything. I was merely enjoying watching you get what you deserve. That was a lovely speech, Remus. Why does someone as intelligent as you hang around with such dunderheads? I always reckoned it was because you didn't realize, but now I just don't know."

James jumped up and pulled his wand from his sleeve. Snivellus pulled his from his satchel.

Remus looked back and forth between James and Snape, wishing he knew what to say to stop the fight he knew was coming. "James, don't!" he hissed. "You'll be in trouble!" Remus didn't know why he had said that. James didn't care.

The five boys stared at one another, wands out, ready to duel at the slightest provocation. Remus was suddenly aware of every sound. A fish leaping out of the lake. The buzzing of insects. The singing of birds. The laughter of a group of nearby girls.

Snape struck first, sending a jet of blue light for James' face. James dodged and hit Snape with a confundus charm. His face took on a distant, blissful quality. He almost looked pleasant. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun.

"What do you think, James?" Sirius asked innocently. "Should we snap his wand?"

"Might teach him a lesson," James replied, just as innocently. It was surprising how quickly Snape's presence had caused the Marauders to make up. They had all but forgotten their previous quarrel.

"Maybe not. He doesn't appear to be too bright. Any idiot can figure out that it's stupid to attack four people by yourself, especially when those four people are so much more talented than you are."

"Hello, have we met? I'm Severus Snape." Snape began to wring Remus' hand enthusiastically.

"Don't snap his wand," Remus said softly, prying his hand out of Snape's grip. "He's being nice."

Sirius took Snape's wand and flexed it menacingly. "Only because he's confunded. Although, this is a fine opportunity we have here. Snivelly, go into the lake and catch us some fish!"

Snape charged into the water without a moment's hesitation and began trying to catch fish by throwing himself bodily on top of them. The Marauders stood laughing as he flailed. The little group of girls nearby began to laugh as well. Slowly, other students began to appear. Sirius confunded Snape a few more times to keep him malleable and quickly graduated to other humiliating things. Snape quacked like a duck. He flapped like a chicken. He stuck his finger down his own throat and gagged himself, though he wouldn't do that for long because he didn't like it. The laughter was like food to him. The more the assembled crowd laughed, the more outrageous his stunts became. Everyone squealed with laughter when he clambered onto a rock, stripped, threw his clothes into the lake, and did a belly flop.

James waded into the lake to retrieve his clothes and slung them into the nearest tree. "Let's let the spell wear off until he notices he's starkers," he suggested to Sirius. Sirius quickly agreed, and the Marauders sat down to wait.

Sirius continued to put Snape through his paces, finding a surprising number of tasks to make Snape perform while he was still confunded, including eating algae, swallowing a small silver fish whole and doing a dance on top of the rock. "This is almost as good as the imperious," Sirius whispered to the others.

Remus began to feel guilty, thinking of how Snape would feel when he came back to himself. Remus knew he would probably be too ashamed to ever show his face in Hogwarts again. James, Sirius, and Peter were still smiling, though, their eyes bright with excitement. They really were cruel sometimes. Remus knew this about them, and liked them anyway, but he had had enough.

"I think we should stop now," he said softly.

"Stop?" James repeated. "It's just getting good!"

"You know, he may be onto something," Sirius pointed out. "If we leave now, he may not remember we were ever here, but if we're here when the spell wears off, he'll know we did it."

"We could always confund him once more and send him to his dormitory," James suggested.

"Without his clothes?" Remus asked.

James nodded. In the end, that was what they did. One more charm, a whispered order, and Snape marched resolutely for the castle wearing nothing but his crooked smile. Most of the crowd followed him, eager to see how the teachers would react to a streaker.

"Come on, mates. We need an alibi," Sirius announced, and the Marauders trampled their way to Hagrid's hut.

Sirius greeted them ebulliently as always, and Sirius sketched him a picture of a hippogriff while the others carefully ate some of Hagrid's rock cakes. Sirius refused them. He had lost a tooth on one earlier in the year and had lost his liking for them, not that he'd ever really had a liking for them. They stayed for nearly an hour, when McGonagall appeared to enlist Hagrid's help searching for them.

"Oh, you're here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sirius said with a smile. "We've been here most of the afternoon." Sirius' eyes went suddenly wide. "That's okay, isn't it? We're not out of bounds."

"Yes, yes, it's fine. There was a bit of an uproar earlier, and someone said you might have had something to do with it."

"They've been with me all afternoon!" Hagrid said, smiling at the picture of the hippogriff.

McGonagall nodded. "I see. Perhaps I shall have a word with someone about making false accusations." She stormed off, heels clicking. Remus wondered how her heels could click even on Hagrid's rug, but they could.

"Now we're golden," Sirius explained fifteen minutes later as they were leaving Hagrid's cottage and heading for the lake once more. It was impossible to resist the lure of the cool trees on such a warm day. "Now every time he tattles, McGoggles will be skeptical because she caught him in a lie once. All we have to do is keep insisting we're innocent, and unless she's caught us red-handed, she won't know who to believe."

"Sirius, you're a genius!" James exclaimed, clapping Sirius on the back.

"I know," Sirius said with a little skip. "You don't grow up in my house without learning a few tricks. Want to go to the Forest?"

James wanted to go very badly. Even Peter wanted to go. Remus wanted to go a little, but mostly he wanted to stay out of trouble. They had skirted it enough for one day. "We might see a unicorn," James said tantalizingly.

"We probably won't, though," Sirius added. "We haven't had much luck with them. Though we did see a very large badger once. I think it was half badger, half dragon."

"It was very territorial," James added.

"And moody," Sirius finished.

"We stunned it!" James announced proudly as they slipped into the forest.

"I'm starting to think there's nothing all that frightening in this forest. I think they just call it forbidden to scare us," Sirius said gruffly. "Adults never want kids to have any fun."

Remus had never realized just how much time James and Sirius had spent in the forest. They knew their way around in here better than Remus would have thought possible. Everything looked the same to him. Just an endless expanse of brown trees and green leaves, dotted with the occasional shrubbery.

"No, it's subtle, but the trees are different," James informed him when he mentioned his lack of direction to the others. "Look at their trunks. See how the colors are different. The white ones are birches. Birch bark will always burn, even if it's wet. My dad and I were caught in a rainstorm once when we were camping, and we built a fire out of birch."

"Do you and your dad go camping a lot?" Peter asked.

"Yes. We go almost every summer. Except we didn't last summer because the week we were going to go, Mum got sick, and we didn't want to leave her by herself. We're going to go this summer, though. Hey! Maybe you can all come. That would be brill!"

It would be brill, Remus thought, so long as it was well-timed. "When do you normally go?"

"The last week in July."

The last week in July? Remus counted up the days on his fingers. Yes, that would be safe. "It sounds like fun."

"Then it's decided. You'll all come camping with us this year."

"Shouldn't you ask your parents first?" Sirius asked with a chuckle.

James shrugged. "Maybe, but they'll say yes. They always do."

Sirius' chuckle suddenly became a little too hearty, but he said nothing. Remus could have sworn he felt Sirius' mood change.

"This one's an elm," James continued, oblivious to Sirius' frown. "You can tell by the leaves. See how they have the serrated edges, like a knife?"

The Marauders leaned in close to look. James continued to tell them about the trees as Sirius led them through the forest and to a small pond where they spent a happy afternoon skipping rocks and chasing frogs to put in Snape's bed.

Remus leaned contentedly against the tree and let out a small and happy sigh. It was an oak, he had learned. James said they were best for climbing. Remus pulled one knee close to his chest and let the other dangle against the trunk. He had gone the furthest of the Marauders, finding the highest branch he thought could still hold him. Sirius was almost directly below him, his eyes closed. Next to him, James was hanging upside down. His glasses had fallen off, and Remus was surprised at how different his face looked without them. Peter had gone higher than Sirius, but had somehow ended up on the other side of the tree. He claimed he was stuck, though the others were skeptical. If he was stuck, Remus had no idea how they'd get him down. He was assuming they'd think of something.

The sun was setting, and the air was growing cooler. Remus could never help feeling a little chill at sunset, even when the full moon was still weeks away, as it was now.

"We should probably go back soon," Remus said. He found he didn't want to, even though they were risking all sorts of trouble being in the forest. It was so lovely out here, and peaceful.

"I wish we had a kayak," James said suddenly. "It would be a lovely day to go kayaking, don't you think?"

"Have you ever been kayaking?" Sirius asked skeptically.

James grabbed his tree limb and pulled himself upright in one fluid motion. He settled himself against the tree trunk. "Yes, my dad takes me. When we go camping. There's a lake there. You'll see when we all go this summer. We're going to have the best time! Camping's wicked. We cook our dinner on sticks."

"Yeah, we should go back," Sirius said suddenly. He stood on his branch and jumped down to the branch below, landing surprisingly well on such a small target. From there he leapt again, continuing his trek down the tree trunk until he landed safely on the ground. Remus watched in awe. He couldn't have done such a thing if his life had depended upon it. He climbed down carefully, finding footholds and spots to put his hands, jumping only the last few feet. James swung down, flipping over branches. He put both hands in the air triumphantly when he landed.

Sirius peered up at Peter. "You coming?"

Peter shook his head, clinging to his tree branch as though expecting it to give way at any moment.

"You have to come down eventually," James called up. "If we don't come to dinner, someone's bound to notice."

"And we're having fish and chips tonight," Remus offered. "That's your favorite!"

"I'll fall," Peter called down. "I'll just stay here. You'll bring me food, right?"

"For the rest of your life?" Remus asked.

"I say we stun him and use Wingardium Leviosa to get him down," Sirius whispered.

"Why would we need to stun him first?" James whispered back.

"For fun," was Sirius' response.

Remus vetoed that idea outright.

"We could confund him and order him down. He won't know the difference."

Remus shook his head again. "Too much of a chance he'd fall." In the end, the three of them worked together to levitate a screeching and fully aware Peter down from the tree. Remus thought he had never seen Peter look so relieved as he did when his feet touched the ground.

"I am never climbing a tree again," Peter decreed.

"Everyone got their frogs?" James asked.

Remus had two frogs in each pocket. So did the others. It made walking back a little awkward, but James assured them it would be worth it to get even with Snivelly. Remus wasn't sure they weren't already even with Snivelly, but he went along. He didn't get angry on his own behalf very often, but he couldn't bear the thought of someone hurting his friend.

When they arrived at the castle, dinner was already underway. The Marauders went straight upstairs to fetch James' cloak and sneak into the dungeons while the rest of the castle was preoccupied. Sirius had had the presence of mind to get the new password from Snape while he was confunded. Victoria Crabbe had stopped giving it to him after they were revealed to be the vandals who flooded everything. Slughorn had apparently bawled out the whole of Slytherin house and told them they weren't to give the password to anyone ever again, and Victoria took him very seriously. Sirius was very put out by the loss of his best informant. Even a promise to let her kiss him wouldn't budge her.

After they had placed the frogs carefully in Snape's bed and washed the frog slime off their hands, they went to the Great Hall. Snape was sitting by himself at the farthest corner of the Slytherin table. Remus felt the slightest twinge of sympathy for him, especially when someone came to talk to him and left him blushing furiously. All across the hall, people pointed at him and laughed.

Remus watched him, guilt flooding his belly until Snape looked up and caught his eye. He glared at Remus, shaking his head furiously. Then he drew a finger across his neck. Remus looked away, wondering how furious he would be when he found the frogs. Remus wouldn't think about that, he decided. He would think about fish and chips, and camping with James and his friends. And when McGonagall came up later that evening to ask if the Marauders knew anything about frogs in the dungeons, Remus shook his head innocently along with James and Sirius and a confunded Peter.

Remus and James were amazed when she believed them, but Sirius merely winked. "You see. I told you so! So long as we don't get caught, and don't overdo it, we've got a free pass now. Peter, stand on your head."

Peter did as he was told, and Remus couldn't help but laugh. Almost as good as imperious indeed.

Sirius released Peter after only a few minutes. They were friends, after all, and then he began to give Peter drumming lessons. Remus wasn't at all sure that Sirius knew how to play drums, but that didn't seem to stop him. James pulled out his harmonica and Sirius his ukulele as Peter banged on the bedpost with a ruler.

They didn't stop until Dirk and Michael came up to the dormitory, asking them if they'd seen Snape streaking in the Entrance Hall.

"No, I can't believe we missed that!" Sirius exclaimed. Peter suppressed a laugh, and Sirius confunded him. Remus was beginning to worry Peter would end up brain-addled if Sirius continued to confund him at this rate.

Michael and Dirk joined the Marauders on Sirius' bed and launched into the story of streaking Snape while the Marauders pretended to listen intently, laughing at all the right places and revealing nothing. James gave a triumphant little shout when Dirk informed them that Snape had lost his house fifty points and landed in detention for a week.

"Finally, he gets a taste of his own potion," James gloated as they climbed into bed. As he saw James smile, the joy of a successful conquest on his face, Remus couldn't help but agree. He was sure he'd feel guilty again when he saw Snape in the morning, but for now, the Marauders were on top and all was right with the world. It was a beautiful day.


	33. James: 3 June, 1972

James: 3 June, 1972

James should have been studying. Exams were beginning in two weeks, after all, and he had hardly studied all term. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he looked around the library, flipping his quill into the air and catching it, gradually tossing it higher and higher.

"Stop it!" Remus hissed.

"Why?"

"Because you're distracting me."

"And Pince is going to come over here any second," Sirius added casually. "She's been watching you for five whole minutes. I think she's waiting for you to make a sound."

James tossed the quill once more to show his friends that he didn't care what they thought, but in trying to make it impressive, he overdid it and tossed it too far. He leaned back in his chair trying to catch the quill and ended up sprawled on the ground when his chair tipped. He somersaulted out of it and rose quickly, running a hand through his hair in what he hoped was a careless fashion and looking around to be sure no one had seen. No one had, except his friends, who were now snickering, and Madame Pince, who charged over to kick him out.

James gathered his things gladly. It was far too lovely a day to be cooped up in the library anyway. He looked expectantly at his friends, waiting for them to gather their things and come along, but they made no move to come with him. He waited until Pince shooed him once more and left feeling dejected.

James made his way to the Entrance Hall, not sure where else to go. It wouldn't be nearly so much fun outside without the Marauders. James didn't particularly like being alone; he much preferred a crowd.

He stepped outside and saw Snape with several of his Slytherin cronies. James quickly turned and went back in. For all his cowardice when he was outnumbered, Snape was ruthless when he had the advantage, and James wasn't thick enough to present himself as a target.

He made his way to the common room, resisting the urge to stop at the library and beg Pince to be let back in. James had never tolerated boredom well, and, while he was typically quite good at entertaining himself, there was something almost tragic about being cooped up inside on a sunny spring day that only increased his impatience. He couldn't believe his friends wanted to study. It was Saturday! Studying on a Saturday was practically a crime against humanity!

He climbed to his dormitory and opened a window. At least he could enjoy a little bit of the fresh air, even if he couldn't be outside. Snape was such a wanker.

James scowled, tossing his satchel angrily. He wished he could flood the Slytherin common room again, but he didn't dare. He'd hate to think what McGoggles would do to him if he tried it. He went over to Griselda's box to check on her and the kittens. After much cajoling from James, Remus had finally painted windows and a door on the box to make it feel more homey. James liked the look; it made him feel better about Griselda's temporary banishment. He never thought he'd say it, but he missed the way she always slept on his chest.

Griselda's box was empty. James was not surprised. No matter how many times they moved the kittens back to their home and no matter how carefully James explained to her that she needed to stay there, Griselda would insist on moving the kittens back to Peter's bed.

James went to Peter's bed and pulled the curtain. There was Griselda, looking content and proud as the kittens nursed.

"You know you can't stay here, kitty," James said, sitting next to her and scratching her head.

Griselda blinked as though to say, "Why not?"

"Because Peter doesn't like you, or your kittens."

Griselda meowed.

"I know," James told her sympathetically, running his hand down her back. "I don't understand it, either. Your kittens are perfect, and you are wonderful, but my father always says there's no accounting for taste. You'll have to go back to your house once all the babies are finished eating."

Griselda licked James' hand, her sandpaper tongue rough against his skin.

James smiled affectionately at her and kissed the top of her head. She didn't act as though she particularly enjoyed kisses, but he gave them to her anyway. "I love you, too, kitty."

James rose to let the kittens finish their meal in peace and fished his quaffle out from under his bed. He tossed it at the wall, catching it when it bounced. Then he lay in his bed and tossed it at the ceiling, catching it when it fell. He wished he could go outside and fly. He sighed loudly, hoping his friends would get over their compulsion to study soon.

The kittens began to mew, which James knew meant they were done eating. Griselda had long since stopped protesting when James moved the kittens. She only watched. When he moved the last one, she let out a little meow, as if to say that this wasn't over.

James ignored her and wandered down to the common room, hoping his friends would be there. They weren't, but Lily and the Blondes were, looking as though they needed nothing in the world so much as someone to fawn over. James decided he would like to be that someone. He made his way upstairs once more to fetch a kitten. He had discovered that Lily was more likely to speak to him if he came bearing kittens. He selected the calico that Lily and Gretchen liked so much and a pure white one, which was Erin's favorite, and went to demand the Blondes' attention.

James had really come to care for Gretchen over the past few weeks. He had never really thought of girls as being much fun to be around. He supposed his mother was fun to be around, but she wasn't a girl; she was his mother. At home, James sort of had a friend who was a girl. Her name was Aurelia, and she was a year younger than he. She was the daughter of one of his father's co-workers, but James merely tolerated her.

Aurelia always wore pink and had bows in her hair and never wanted to anything fun. She always wanted James to play house. James couldn't understand why playing house was supposed to be fun when he spent every day of his life in a house, but she refused to play anything else. She wouldn't help him make mud pies or catch bugs or even play dueling. She said she might get dirty and didn't seem to understand when James explained that that was half the fun. Once he threw mud on her just to prove his point, but she ran inside crying and James had to eat his dinner without dessert. That was when he decided he had no use for girls.

Gretchen was nothing like Aurelia. She was great fun, and not only because she would sometimes kiss him. Usually he could convince her to toss a quaffle with him, and it turned out she was good. Almost as good as James. She also liked to wander with him under his cloak and climb trees and skip rocks and do all sorts of things. She was almost as good as a boy, Gretchen. And somehow better than a boy. Boys may have been more fun than girls, but they weren't nearly so pretty; and their voices weren't so nice; and they didn't smell so good; and James didn't get that weird, fluttery feeling when he looked at them. James was beginning to think maybe he'd been wrong about girls all along.

Today, all Gretchen wanted to do was gossip. Sirius told James he'd have to get used to listening to gossip because it was part of having a girlfriend, but no matter how hard he tried, James simply couldn't make himself interested in who fancied in whom, or who had declared she was never again speaking to whom, or who was currently angry with whom or why.

James didn't really listen. He didn't need to. Gretchen could go for hours with no input whatsoever, sort of like Peter when he got going in what Remus had dubbed "constant chatter mode". He managed to convince her to play gobstones with him while she talked, the kitten sleeping peacefully in her lap.

"And Erin thinks Lily fancies Snape."

James' ears perked up. "What?"

"Erin thinks Lily fancies Snape, but I don't. I think she fancies Rustom Chowdhury."

"Why would anyone fancy him?"

"Snape or Rustom?"

"Either," James said, curling his lip in disgust. He did not like this development. Not at all.

"Lily says she and Snape are just friends, but it's clear he fancies her."

"Yes," James agreed absently. He looked across the room to where Lily sat chatting animatedly with Erin and Lesley. She caught James' eye and her smile faded into a look of disapproval. James tried smiling at her. It didn't work. He never knew what to make of that. Usually no one could resist his smile. It figured that he would fall in love with the only girl in the world who could resist his smile. He tried it on Gretchen to be sure it really worked.

Gretchen smiled back. "You're so cute."

James breathed a sigh of relief, decided he didn't care about Lily anyway, and settled in for more gossip.

That night, James couldn't sleep. His brain worked a mile a minute, thinking of how he should have studied today and was an idiot for not doing it. He also found himself thinking of the way Lily had accidentally dropped a pea down her blouse at dinner and wondered what it would be like to be that pea, which was even stupider than not studying because the pea wasn't even alive to enjoy what it had seen. Of course, if James were the pea, he _would_ be alive to enjoy it. He began to try imaging all the things the pea must have seen.

The moment he had finally fixed an image of Lily in his mind, it was replaced by Snape, sneering as he taunted. "The best man won. Lily chose me." James wasn't sure what to make of Erin thinking Lily fancied Snape. No accounting for taste, indeed.

James tossed. He turned. He sighed in frustration. He hated not being able to sleep, not only because he would be tired the next day, but because it was so _boring_, even worse than studying because all his friends were sleeping, and he had to be quiet. Being quiet was hard. If he were at home, he'd have gone searching for food and maybe found his dad also awake. Insomnia was a frequent visitor for both Potter men. When he discovered his dad awake, they would curl up together and read a book or play a game. Many had been the mornings Gwendolyn had come down the stairs to find them sleeping on the sofa, James curled up in Harry's lap.

James decided to wake Sirius.

Sirius never minded being awoken; it was one of the things that was so great about Sirius. Sirius climbed out of bed and told James he thought they really ought to wake the others. Sirius always thought that. The others grumbled, but only a little. They had learned by now that their complaints were futile. Once Sirius was awake, he was an unstoppable force.

After a brief huddle, they decided Gryffindor tower was terribly boring and that they needed to go somewhere else. They wandered to the kitchens, where they discovered a freshly made cake with chocolate icing. After devouring the whole thing, they decided, in a sugar-fueled haze, to go to the dungeons. It occurred to James that they might be able to successfully flood the dungeons from another bathroom and avoid being caught by the sensory charm, but Remus declared it was too risky. Besides, even without catching them in the act, McGonagall surely would have put it together.

"She's not stupid, you know," Sirius said knowingly. James was forced to agree, much as he wanted to cause another flood.

Instead, they decided to do the next best thing: they would hang toilet seats from the Slytherin common room's chandelier. It was a horrid thing - a silver monstrosity with twisted, open-mouthed snakes holding a hundred candles, their fangs extending halfway up the candle shafts. It was nothing like the chandelier in the Gryffindor common room, which was made of bright, friendly brass and gave off a bright, daylighty sort of glow. The light seemed to cascade off of it, like a lion's mane. Looking at the Slytherin chandelier gave James the creeps. The flickering candles made it look as though the snakes were moving, writhing in horribly pain. He could hardly bear to look at it, it was so hideous.

Toilet seats would set it off nicely.

Luckily, the Marauders now knew where every bathroom in the entire castle was located, so finding one that was not charmed was a breeze. As was stealing all the toilet seats; James probably could have done that in his sleep.

After the frog fiasco, Slughorn had changed the Slytherin password yet again. James really wished he would stop, as it only made the Marauders' job that much harder, but James had managed to get it once again by simply donning the cloak one evening after dinner and lying in wait for an unsuspecting Slytherin to enter his common room.

"Boomslang skin," James told the wall confidently. At this rate, James would be able to begin guessing the passwords soon. They all seemed to be potion ingredients.

Toilet seats made a lovely addition to to Slytherin chandelier, the Marauders decided as they surveyed their handiwork.

The Marauders whipped around when they heard the common room's door closing. "Time to go," Sirius whispered. The four of them scrambled under the cloak and rushed out the door. A familiar figure was just disappearing up the stairs at the end of the corridor. Of course, it _would_ be Snivellus. What was he doing up so late, anyway?

"That son of a bitch," Sirius whispered.

"Where do you reckon he's going?" Peter asked.

"Probably to tell everyone in the castle what we did," James replied.

"We better get to the dormitory quick," Remus added, a touch of panic in his tone.

It was difficult to run under the cloak, but the Marauders had nearly mastered the art. They planned to sprint to the dormitory, arriving there faster than humanly possible, and pretend to be sleeping, thus providing themselves with a perfect alibi: slumber.

However, as they passed the bathroom James so loved to flood, they stopped short. Water was pouring from under the door.

Sirius let out a stream of profanity unlike anything James had ever heard. James could almost hear Remus blushing.

"We have to stop it!" Sirius finished. "McGonagall will think we did it!"

James threw off the cloak and stuffed it into his robes as the Marauders rushed into the bathroom, determined to unclog all the toilets, dry the floor, and still make it up to the common room in time to pretend to be sleeping. James was sure they could do it. They could do anything. They were the Marauders!

He was just unclogging the last toilet when he heard someone clearing her throat behind him.

James froze as Slughorn and McGonagall both peered down at the Marauders.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall demanded. Her lips were so thin they had nearly disappeared. James' heart was beating so quickly in his chest that he was sure everyone could hear it. He had a sudden urge to run into the nearest stall and lock the door, as though that could help him. "Answer me!" McGonagall shouted. "I can hardly believe that four of my students would be involved in such blatant destruction not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times. Four!"

"It wasn't us," Sirius said. "It was Snape. We were trying to stop it."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?" she shrieked.

"Yes! We didn't have anything to do with that," James told her.

McGonagall fixed him with a hawkish glare. He met it. She would believe him. She had to. He had never lied to her before. Well, not about anything important. "Breaking rules is one thing, Potter. Lying about it and trying to blame it on someone else is sheer cowardice."

"But we-" James began. He was cut off by a shout.

"That's enough, Potter. I might expect this sort of behavior from some people, but never from you. From any of you." The boys sank lower and lower as she continued to shout so loudly that James was sure the entire castle could hear. By the time she finished, she was nearly hoarse and Remus was crying loudly.

"Horace, help me haul these miscreants to Dumbledore's office." James had only a moment to wonder why she would need help when they could all walk perfectly well before her hand snaked out and grabbed his ear in a pincer-like twist. A moment later, he heard Sirius yelp as she grabbed him. Judging by the grunts coming from behind him, Slughorn had grabbed Remus and Peter, but James wasn't overly concerned with that at the moment. He was doing his best to run on tiptoes to keep his ear from being pulled as little as possible. She had a very firm grip for such an old woman.

As they walked, James caught the tiniest movement in an empty classroom. He turned toward it as much as his wrenched ear would allow and saw Snape just disappearing into a shadow, a look of pure glee on his face.

"Snape's there!" James yelled. "He's in that classroom! We told you he did it!" James felt almost triumphant. Any second now, McGonagall would let him go and beg his forgiveness, and then maybe Snape would be caned. Maybe he'd even be expelled!

"Quiet!" McGonagall barked.

"But he's- OW!"

McGonagall strengthened her grip on his ear, twisting it painfully. "I said enough, Potter!"

James fell silent. He could recognize a lost cause when it twisted his ear.

"Fizzing whizzbees," McGonagall announced to a gargoyle on the seventh floor. Whose bright idea had it been to put the headmaster's office on the seventh floor, anyway? James' ear was never going to be the same. He was going to have to go through his rest of his life with one ear larger than the other. Lily would never want to date him if he were lopsided!

When they arrived in Dumbledore's office, McGonagall mercifully let go. James rubbed his sore ear. He rubbed the other as well just to be sure they were still the same size. They felt as though they were. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief, but the feeling was short-lived.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Dumbledore asked cheerfully.

"They've flooded the dungeons again," McGonagall reported.

"We didn't do it," James insisted. "It was Snape. We saw him."

"We caught them red-handed," Slughorn corrected.

"But we didn't!" Sirius protested. "We swear we didn't! We were only in there because we were trying to stop the flood!"

"Boys, I would like to believe you," Dumbledore said sadly. "But unfortunately there's quite a bit of precedent that tells me I can't."

"I've never lied to you!" James insisted.

"Haven't you?" Dumbledore asked. His eyes looked so disappointed that James thought he might cry. Tears stung his eyes. "Half truths and lies by omission are still lies, James." Remus let out a particularly loud sob.

"But-" James continued.

McGonagall cut them off. "Continuing to lie will only get you into deeper trouble. Professor Slughorn and I saw you; caught you in the act, no less."

"It was Snape!" James insisted.

"Why would Snape flood his own common room?" McGonagall asked.

"To frame us," James told her. Honestly, he couldn't understand why this concept was so difficult to grasp.

McGonagall's only response was a loud sigh.

"Continued and willful destruction of property will not be tolerated here at Hogwarts, boys," Dumbledore said sadly. "Clearly your previous punishment did not have the desired effect."

James wanted to protest that it had, but he had given himself up for a lost cause. No one was going to believe him. It rankled deep down in his soul that he had been so careful to build up their trust, and yet it did him no good.

"You've left me with no choice," Dumbledore continued. James braced himself for his sentence. They'd be caned, he was sure, and they'd probably be in detention for the rest of the term. Maybe even next term as well. The mere thought of scrubbing more bathrooms filled him to the brim with ennui.

"You are all suspended for one week."

Four boys immediately began to protest.

"You can't do that!"

"But it wasn't us!"

"Please, Professor!"

"We didn't do it!"

Dumbledore listened impassively as he sent out four patronuses.

"That's enough of that!" McGonagall snapped. "If you're not willing to accept the punishment, then you shouldn't break the rules."

"But we didn't!" James told her once more, consoling himself with the thought that at least his parents would believe him.

"I'm growing weary of this game, Potter," she scolded. "You've lied to me one too many times for me to believe that."

Tears stung James' sinuses. He willed them away. He would not cry in front of Dumbledore. Or Slughorn. And he didn't want McGonagall to know she had upset him enough to make him cry.

James' father stepped through the floo. He had probably already been awake when the patronus arrived.

Harry looked livid. James' lip trembled as he looked in the man's face. "Dad," he pleaded. "I didn't do it."

McGonagall sighed. "He keeps insisting he didn't do it, but we caught him red-handed, Harry." She proceeded to explain, hammering the nails into James' coffin with every word, telling Harry in chilling detail about the many transgressions James had committed that led Dumbledore to the conclusion that suspension was his only remaining option. It did sound awfully bad when she listed them out like that. Harry's face grew darker, the anger and disappointment in it growing, as McGonagall recited his misdeeds.

"Dad, please believe me! We flooded it before, but we didn't do it this time! I swear! It was Snape!"

"That's enough, James," Harry said firmly. "We'll discuss this at home."

James' eyes filled with tears against his will. He had been so sure his parents would believe him. He choked back a sob and looked in his father's face, his own face crumpling with emotion. The look Harry was giving his son did not soften.

"Let's go," he said, holding a hand out to James. James moved toward him, his heart sinking into his toes. "I'm really sorry about this," his father told the assembled staff members.

They all accepted his apology gracefully as Harry put a hand on the back of James' neck. Squeezing uncomfortably, he led James through the floo.

When they arrived at the manor, Gwendolyn was waiting for them in her dressing gown. "James Michael," she scolded.

"I didn't do it!" James told her. "We were down there because we were hanging up toilet seats. We didn't flood it. Honestly, we didn't. It was Snape. We saw him. He's trying to get us into trouble!"

"Don't lie to me, James!" Harry scolded. He never could stand to be lied to. He had always been quite strict about it. "Professor McGonagall caught you red-handed."

James wished only bad things upon the person who had invented the phrase "caught red-handed". He decided to appeal to his mother. "I'm not lying, Mum. I swear it!"

His mother pursed her lips. "I'd like to believe you," she said sternly. The unspoken "but..." hung heavily in the air.

"I've never been so disappointed in you in my life, James," Harry said. "You could have hurt someone. And now lying about it? You know better than that."

James made a sound of frustration somewhere deep in his throat. He felt betrayed by their lack of faith in him. He hung his head and fought heroically not to weep as they took it in turns to scold, feeling that his heart was breaking.

He couldn't have said how long the reprimands went on. It felt like a lifetime. He mostly wasn't listening anyway. He was far too busy nursing his own resentment.

Finally, his parents went silent. James looked up at them. His mother looked as though she might cry. That made James feel even angrier. What right did she have to be sad? James was the one being wrongly accused. Then he looked at his father. His look was just as awful. Anger and disbelief and that wretched, wretched disappointment.

Harry looked as though he were warring with himself. "You ought to be spanked," he finally said, his voice stern.

"No, Dad!" James cried. His heart leapt into his throat. He hadn't been spanked since he was nine.

"Harry," Gwendolyn groaned, cocking her head sadly.

"You don't think he deserves it?" Harry asked.

James watched his mother, willing her to change his father's mind. She only nodded. "Yes, you're right. He does. Only I can't bear it."

"I'll set a silencing charm," Harry told her. He reached out to her, squeezing her shoulder. Comforting her. He made no attempts to comfort James. The hurt wrapped itself in thick tendrils around his heart, choking him. Breaking him. Harry turned his face toward James, his countenance determined. Resolute. As though James were a problem to be solved rather than a person who needed his parents to trust him. "Come along."

"No!" James cried, stamping his foot angrily. Harry took his arm, but James jerked it away. "No! This isn't fair!" Harry took his arm more firmly this time and walked him up the stairs and into his room. James tried every trick he knew. He resisted. He dragged his feet. He screamed in anger and frustration. He went limp just outside his room, wishing he'd thought to do that on the stairs.

"What has gotten into you?" Harry asked, jerking him up and propelling him into his bedroom with a stinging swat.

James glared at him, refusing to speak to him. He would never speak to him again. That would teach him. Or maybe he'd run away. He could go live with Uncle Charles in Hawaii, or maybe with Sirius, or Remus, or Peter. And wouldn't his dad be sorry _then_?

"I'll be back in a moment," Harry said, shutting the door. True to his word, he was back only minutes later. He had a slipper in his hand. James remembered that slipper. He had only been struck with it once before, but he could still easily recall how much it stung. He couldn't take his eyes off of it. The injustice chafed at his soul. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"Dad, please," James begged one final time. His anger had disappeared, overtaken by a hurt so acute it made his breath catch in his throat. He could hardly bear thinking that his parents didn't believe in him. The slipper didn't sting nearly as much as that knowledge did.

James cried far longer than he ever had before, even when he was small.

He cried all throughout his father's post-punishment attempts at reconciliation.

He cried far past the point when the last vestiges of the sting had gone.

He cried when his mother came to him with tea and biscuits, rubbing his back and asking him to please talk to her.

He cried when his father came back again to ask him what in the world had happened to upset him so much.

He jerked himself away from his parents' touch, turning his back on them both and burying his head so deeply in his pillow that he could hardly breathe. He cried until he had cried himself to sleep, and in his dreams he was standing trial, wrongly accused of all manner of crimes, but no matter how convincingly he pled his innocence, his parents, serving as judges, found him guilty and tossed him into Azkaban again and again and again.

When he awoke, he was still tired, but he went downstairs, determined not to speak to either of his parents all through breakfast. He'd show them, and then they would be as sad as he was, heartbroken over their mistake, mourning the fact that they would never again hear their son's voice. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't last for long. He had decided to shut them out before and could never do it for more than an hour or two, and usually not even that. He loved them too much. Today, however, would be different. Today, he really meant it. He wouldn't speak to either of them until they apologized. Maybe even until they begged.

Harry hardly reacted to James' stony glares. Gwendolyn showed she had noticed with only the slightest of frowns. Harry started up a conversation about his schedule for the day. Gwendolyn nodded along, telling him they would be having roast duck for dinner. It occurred to James very suddenly that maybe his parents didn't care. That maybe he'd finally gone too far. That maybe they were still angry. His cold shoulder didn't last for long after that. He only wanted them to hug him and tell him they loved him and weren't angry with him anymore. Halfway through breakfast, he put down his fork and broke down into fresh tears.

"I'm sorry," he cried, not even sure what he was apologizing for. He just wanted things to be back to normal. The next thing James knew, he was being sandwiched between them as they both reassured him that he was forgiven. He felt awfully silly when he dried his eyes, mumbling about being too old to blubber. His friends probably weren't blubbering over being in trouble with their parents. Well, Remus probably was, but that was different.

Harry mussed James' hair and looked at him with sad eyes. He crouched down to look James in the eyes and said sternly, "We forgive you, but no more lying."

James' breath hitched. They still didn't believe him. He found he was too tired to care. He launched himself at his dad, burying his face in the man's shoulder. His heart still hurt at the false accusation, but it felt so good to be forgiven. James learned that a broken heart, like broken trust, could be healed, but the scar was still there, stretched thinly over the wound. Years later, he would find that the last vestiges of that wound could still sting. He decided then and there that, no matter how long he lived, he would never, ever mistrust someone he cared about.


	34. Sirius: 4 June, 1972

_I sort of feel like I should apologize for this chapter. __Warning for abuse and cruelty and ickiness all around. Sorry, ya'll. _

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Sirius: 4 June, 1972

Sirius' insides felt as though someone had filled them with lead the moment he caught his first glimpse of Orion's cold, black eyes. By then, Sirius and Peter were the only ones left. Mr. Potter had come, apologizing to the teachers and scolding James. Then Mrs. Lupin came, upbraiding Remus in such rapid French that Sirius had trouble keeping up. Remus only hung his head and wept. Now it was Sirius' turn.

Orion said nothing to the teachers. He said nothing to Sirius. He merely walked to Sirius, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and yanked him to the floo. When they stepped through together on the other side, Orion moved his grip to Sirius' hair. He jerked Sirius' head up so quickly it was startling and grabbed his face, his fingernails digging painfully into Sirius' cheeks.

"What were you thinking?" the man bellowed.

Sirius had never put much thought into his father's fingernails before. For a moment, he was glad it wasn't his mother holding him like this. She kept her fingernails long and painted blood red. If she were the one dealing with him, she'd probably scratch his eyes out. He was momentarily glad she wasn't here.

Then it struck Sirius what a very stupid thought that was. What did it matter if a person died via fire or ice when they were the same amount of dead either way. Sirius laughed nervously at his own stupidity.

"You think it's funny?" Orion spat. "You think it's funny!"

Sirius shook his head as much as he could when his father was still holding his face. The fingernails dug in harder. Sirius was afraid to move. He suddenly had to go to the loo, but he didn't dare interrupt his father's shouting.

Sirius could never decide where he ought to look when he was being shouted at. Looking at the ground made him seem frightened, and he was determined never to let his father know that he was afraid, but when he looked in his father's eyes, he couldn't stand the rage and contempt he saw there. Sirius had no qualms about his father; he knew the man didn't love his children, and he knew it wasn't his fault. Sirius never took his rejections personally, but that didn't make them any easier to bear.

Usually, he settled for staring at his father's forehead and sneaking occasional glances at the man's eyes. Orion leaned in close as he shouted: so close that Sirius could smell his stale breath. They must have had fish for dinner. Sirius took a tiny step away, but Orion bore down on him, determined not to let his eldest escape one moment of misery.

Sirius tried his best to stare his father down, refusing to look away from his face as he shouted at Sirius that he never thought he'd see the day when a Black would betray the family so spectacularly. Sirius spoke without thinking, reminding Orion of the tapestry in the parlor, scarred as it was with plenty of Blacks who had "betrayed" their family in a much more spectacular manner than being sorted into Gryffindor or pranking a few Slytherins.

Orion backhanded him, his ring slashing Sirius across the face. Sirius fell silent, putting both hands to his cheek. His fingers came away covered in blood.

Orion appeared not to notice. "My own son," he screamed, sending spittle raining down on Sirius' face. "A blood traitor!"

Sirius found his voice again, though it was soft and shaky. "I am not a blood traitor."

Orion stopped screaming. His face went slack. His eyes seemed to be looking through Sirius, studying his mind. It wasn't the first time Sirius had had reason to believe his father had at least some skill at legilimency. The man was too good at guessing his son's thoughts.

"You are," Orion said. His voice was dangerous, deadly, calm. "You know that you've betrayed us. You've sullied our good name. You know that you are not worthy to carry the name of Black, don't you?" Sirius was expected to respond. He was expected to nod and agree. He was expected to beg for forgiveness. There was a time when he would have done, but not today. He pulled his hand away from his face, glaring at his father, thinking of all the things Orion did: the dark arts; the blackmail; the theft; even the women he sometimes brought home, not even attempting to hide them from his wife or his sons. The things he didn't dare tell his friends because they would hate him, if they knew.

Sirius took a deep breath, straightening to his full height, still a whole head shorter than his father, and squaring his shoulders. "You're the one who's not worthy to carry the name of Black. You're the one who sullies our good name."

Then everything began to happen very quickly.

Sirius was seven the last time he had allowed his father to make him cry. It was his seventh birthday, to be exact, and Sirius was having a party. Sirius' parties weren't for Sirius so much as they were for his parents. Children came, but because they were the children of his parents' friends, not because they were his friends. He liked very few of them. The only part of his birthday parties he really enjoyed was opening the presents, and so he decided to do just that.

When his parents discovered that he had opened the presents alone, without an audience to jealously note how generous the Blacks were with their children, they were furious. The party ended quickly when Orion began to shout. Walburga stood by the door, embarrassed, thanking everyone for coming, as Orion's bellows echoed through the house. He beat Sirius and burned all of his new presents and then, for good measure, he burned Sirius' favorite toy: a stuffed hippogriff that had been a gift from Uncle Alphard.

After the storm was over, Sirius lay in his bed, crying. As he lay there, something clicked into place for him, like the final tumbler of picked lock. He realized that the only way to win at this twisted game was to be stronger than Orion. And the only way he could be stronger was to be in complete control of himself. He would never again cry. He would never again let Orion know when he was frightened. He would never flinch. He would never waver. That was how he would win. That was how he would survive.

So that was what he did. When Orion came home in a dangerous mood, Sirius would provoke him so that he, and not Orion, could be in charge of when the beating happened, and whom it happened to. He obeyed each of Orion's command's diligently, setting his jaw and taking each blow without reaction. He showed no pain, no anger, no fear, only resolve. Orion may not have ever known it, but Sirius considered each blow, each scar, each bruise a badge of courage. Because each blow, scar, and bruise proved to Sirius that, even though he was still only a boy, he was the better man and always had been.

The next day, he went into Orion's study and covered his papers with ink. When Orion discovered it, he beat Sirius so severely that he was sore for weeks. Every time he moved, pain shot through his body. Looking back on it, he suspected that was the time his father had broken his tail bone. It was the worst beating he had ever had.

Until today.

Today, for the first time in nearly six years, Sirius cried. He screamed. He begged. Today, for the first time in nearly six years, his father managed to hurt him enough that he fought to get away. Fought bravely, even, until Orion paralyzed him and there was nothing else to do but scream in his own mind and pray for it to be over soon. He tried to think of Lesley and the way her hair shone golden in the sun. He tried to think of Mrs. Potter's smile and how Mr. Potter said his name like it was a blessing and not an accusation. None of those visions lasted along; there was no longer room in Sirius for any emotion besides terror; no place for any thought except pain.

When he had tired himself out, Orion lifted the spell. The screams exploded out of Sirius before he even realized the spell had been lifted. He could barely take in enough breath to fuel them, but they came anyway. Forced their way out of him until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse, but they still did not stop. He couldn't possibly scream enough to keep up with the pain and horror and heartbreak overtaking him.

When Sirius' screams had faded to broken sobs, Orion jerked him up and dragged him out the door. He walked along in a haze of fear, trotting to keep up with his father's long stride, forcing his legs to work, although they were so shaky he was sure they would collapse at any moment, and he was so exhausted he wasn't sure he would have minded. Sirius didn't know where they were going, and he didn't care. He only cared that it was over.

Sirius barely registered it when they stormed through the kitchen, his father half carrying him. It wasn't until they reached the little door that led to the cellar that Sirius realized what Orion had in mind. His father was going to lock him in the cellar. With the trolls.

"No!" Sirius screamed, struggling with all his might as Orion opened the door. Still, he was no match for the man who overpowered him so easily. Orion pulled him down the stairs and threw him to the floor. He rose again immediately and ran to his father, clinging to him. "Father, no! Please!" he begged, fresh tears streaming from his eyes.

Orion threw Sirius off of him. Sirius hit the ground hard, a sickening crunch sounding in his ears as pain shot through his arm. "It's no less than you deserve," Orion spat.

Sirius cradled his arm close to his body. He ran his finger down his wrist and found a jagged bump. He yelped as his finger crossed over it. Electric waves of pain shot all the way up to his shoulder.

"Father, my arm!" But Orion wasn't listening. He stood at the top of the stairs and waved his wand. Four trolls appeared in the corners of the room. Orion turned off the light and shut the door just as the trolls began to roar.

Sirius leapt up, scrambling up the stairs. He pounded on the door with his good arm, screaming for his father, then for his mother, then for Regulus, and finally for Kreacher. He slowly realized no one would help. He was going to die down here, and his parents would probably be glad to be rid of the son who disappointed them so much. A troll roared next to his head. He gasped and backed away, forgetting he was at the top of a staircase. He stepped backward into nothingness, losing his balance, and began his descent. He felt each thud as he somersaulted down the stairs and landed in an agonizing heap at the bottom. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness took him was the distinctive shadow of troll feet blocking out the light from under the kitchen door.

When Sirius awoke, he was in his bed, and he felt no pain. He thought hard, trying to remember how he got here. Sirius listened intently. There were voices in the distance. He lifted his head and saw stars. He waited for them to pass before looking around. Through his windows, he could clearly see that it was night. He looked at the stars, immediately recognizing the three bright stars that made up Orion's belt. "_Orion, the hunter_," Sirius thought to himself. He moved slowly, waiting for the pain, but it never came. His head rushed as he stood. He caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror. He did not look good. His face was swollen and bruised, from the fall no doubt. The gash on his cheek had been healed. Of course. Orion may have beaten him bloody in places that never showed, but he would not have wanted to ruin his son's perfect face.

He turned to look at his back. He wanted to see the damage. He wasn't sure why that was important to him, but it always was. He had clearly been worked on while he was unconscious. His back was covered in angry, criss-crossing welts. He vividly remembered everything that had happened to him, but he couldn't seem to make sense of it; his mind was fuzzy around the edges.

"What are you doing?" came a stern voice from the doorway. Sirius spun to see who had spoken, but the quick movement made him dizzy. He fell to his knees, dropping his head to wait until the world stopped turning. Just when he thought it would right itself again, he opened his eyes and caught sight of the troll leg rubbish bin. Orion had moved it to his room. Sirius hated to think what tortures Orion still had in store for him. His stomach churned violently, and he retched all over the rug.

The owner of the stern voice came closer and put rough hands on his shoulders. He looked up and saw that it was one of his father's friends: Victor Crabbe, Victoria's great-grandfather. Sirius didn't know him well. He only remembered the man because he always seemed so hopelessly old. Mr. Crabbe was a healer at St. Mungo's. With Mr. Potter. Sirius groaned, wishing he could be at Potter Manor right now. Mr. and Mrs. Potter would take good care of him, he knew. He wished for the hundredth time that they could have been his parents instead of Orion and Walburga.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I wanted to see," Sirius explained. "I wanted to know what he did to me."

"Who?"

"Him." Sirius was so groggy he could barely think. He couldn't make his mind work.

"Him who?"

Sirius shut his eyes tightly. Nothing made sense. "Can I go home now?"

"You are home."

"No, not here home. _Home _home."

"Where is that?" Hogwarts, Sirius thought. Had he said that already? He couldn't remember.

"Tell Madame Pomfrey I'm hurt. She'll know what to do."

"Let's get you back into bed. " Mr. Crabbe lifted him gently and helped him back into the bed.

"I don't want to go back to bed."

"Want to or not, you need to rest. You're going back to bed." Sirius didn't argue. He only wanted to sleep.

When he awoke again, it was morning and Regulus was sitting at the foot of his bed, staring intently at him.

Sirius sat up gingerly and immediately regretted it when his injuries protested painfully. He laid down on his side, holding his head so that he could still see his brother. His head felt much clearer than it had the previous night, but it still felt strange: fuzzy and heavy, as though he were looking at the world from behind a very old and distorted window. He could remember being able to think straight, but he couldn't quite manage to do it.

"You're an idiot," Regulus said, a hard edge in his voice. "What the hell were you thinking, flooding the Slytherins? What did you think was going to happen when they found out?"

"Well, I wasn't planning for them to find out," Sirius snapped, holding a hand to his head. It wouldn't stop pounding, and his back was throbbing. Whatever Mr. Crabbe had given him last night, it had clearly worn off. "And for the record, I didn't flood the Slytherins. I only covered their chandelier in toilet seats."

Regulus scoffed.

Sirius studied him a moment, trying to make sense of the harshness in his eyes. "Is Mr. Crabbe still here?"

"No, he went home. He says you're going to be fine. You just need to rest. You had a concussion and two broken ribs, and you broke your arm in three places." Regulus ticked the injuries off on his fingers, speaking with an air of detachment, as though he were speaking of nothing more serious than an approaching rainfall.

"How'd they explain that?"

"They told him you fell down the stairs," Regulus informed Sirius, as though he had just asked the stupidest question in the world.

"Why are you being such a prat?"

"I'm not. Only I'm tired of you making life hell around here. Why do you always have to pick fights? Why can't you ever just behave?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Regulus. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Regulus raised one corner of his mouth and huffed. "Never mind." He got up off the bed and stomped out of the room, ignoring Sirius' requests that he come back. Sirius scratched at his ear. He had no idea what had just happened, but he knew he didn't like it. There was very little time to think about it, however, before Kreacher came in with a tray of food. Soup and a sandwich, by the looks of it. And pumpkin juice. The soup smelled delicious. Until that moment, Sirius did not realize how hungry he was. Sirius brought himself into a sitting position, thankful for the softness of the bed.

He smiled as Kreacher placed the tray over his knees. Sirius breathed in the heavenly aroma for only an instant before Kreacher jarred him. Pain jolted through his head and his back. "Argh!" he yelled. He looked down at the tray. Half the soup had sloshed out of the bowl and the sandwich was now covered in pumpkin juice.

"Bon appetit," Kreacher croaked with a smile before he disapparated.

"Kreacher!" Sirius called. Kreacher appeared once more.

"What does young master need?" he asked, something very close to a sneer on his face.

"Take this back downstairs and get me something else," Sirius ordered.

"As young master wishes," Kreacher said submissively. He took the tray and disappeared. A few minutes later, stomping footsteps echoed through the hallways and his mother appeared in the doorway, anger etched across her features.

"So, my food isn't good enough for you?"

"What? No! Kreacher spilled it."

"Kreacher said you spilled it."

"He's lying!"

"IDIOT BOY!" she shrieked. "You really are as stupid as your father always says. You keep forgetting that HOUSE ELVES CAN'T LIE! Well, if the high and mighty Gryffindor is too good for our lowly food, he can just go hungry."

"No!" Sirius begged. "Mother, I'm really hungry. I wanted that food. It spilled, was all. I don't think I'm too good."

"Save your breath," she said coldly. "I'm not interested in hearing anything a blood traitor has to say. Even if he is my own son."

She slammed the door. Sirius stared blankly at his bedspread. Almost as if it knew what had just happened, his stomach began to growl.

Sirius began to cry. He was tired and sore and hungry. Regulus was angry with him, and he had no idea why. Sirius lay back, fidgeting until he found an almost-comfortable position and there, for the first time in his life, he cried himself to sleep.

Next morning, Sirius went gingerly to Regulus' room. Regulus was sitting at his desk with his back to the door, drawing. He was a wonderful artist, Regulus, certainly better than Sirius, maybe even better than Remus. He had what their tutor always called "a good eye for detail". Sirius had the same raw talent, but he never had the eye, so his drawings always looked dull and flat in comparison to Reg's.

"Hey," Sirius said.

Regulus turned. "Hey," he replied before turning back to his work.

"May I come in?"

A shrug.

Sirius came in, moving very slowly. He climbed onto Regulus' bed and lay down on his stomach, propping himself up on his arms. "About yesterday," he began. "I'm sorry I called you a prat."

Regulus shrugged, not looking at Sirius. "It's no big deal. I called you an idiot."

Sirius wasn't sure what to say next. He wanted to scream. Things had never been difficult between Reg and him before. Reg continued to draw, barely acknowledging Sirius' presence at all.

"Were things really bad here while I was gone?"

Regulus shrugged. "Not too bad. He lost his temper and took his cane to me a few times, but mostly when he got angry I hid, like you said. He doesn't ever beat me as bad as he does you. I don't provoke him."

Sirius bit down his annoyance. The only reason Sirius provoked him was to save Regulus; seemed to him his brother could show a little gratitude.

"Why haven't you been writing me?" Sirius asked. He had meant the question to sound casual, but it came out sounding clipped and angry. He couldn't quite keep the hurt out of his voice.

Regulus turned to him, his silver eyes cold. "You know why."

Sirius shook his head. "No, I don't."

Reg's eyes narrowed. "Because you stopped writing to me, and then you didn't come home for Christmas, even though you promised you would." The frigid look in Reg's eyes faded to one of sorrow. "Even if you didn't want to see us, you could have sent us presents at least."

"I did send you presents!" Sirius protested. "I sent you paints and pastels and parchment for your artwork."

Regulus only snorted, turning back to his drawing. "Very funny, Sirius, trying to claim their gift."

Sirius lifted himself and marched, as well as he could while limping, to Regulus' desk to demand his brother's attention. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you!" Regulus snapped. "You were so busy with your new friends you couldn't even be bothered to send me a present! Or Mother! Or Father!"

"But I did send you a present," Sirius cried, exasperated. "I just told you!"

"Mother and Father gave me paints and pastels!"

"Then they stole them from me! They must have intercepted the owl and put their name on it."

Reg's eyes narrowed again. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," Sirius admitted, his mind drawing a blank. "Because they hate me, and they want you to hate me, too?"

"They don't hate you, Sirius. Why do you always have to do that? They're not nearly as awful as you make them out to be."

Regulus had lost his mind. Or he'd been imperiused. Or maybe kidnapped and replaced with someone drinking polyjuice potion. Those were the only explanations. Despite their father's near constant insistence to the contrary, Sirius' brother was not this stupid.

"Do you know why I didn't come home for Christmas? I wanted to, Reg! But Mother told me I couldn't. She sent me a letter, on Halloween, of all days, and told me not to bother because I was sorted into Gryffindor. Gryffindor, Reg! He wouldn't let me come home because she didn't like the bloody house I was put into!"

"She said you wanted to spend Christmas with the Potters."

Sirius wanted to scream or maybe cry or perhaps grab Regulus and shake him until he saw reason. "She's lying to you."

Regulus put down his pencil, turned his chair toward Sirius, and gave him a look that was so much like their mother, Sirius nearly cringed beneath it. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"What about all the owls I've sent? Surely one of them got through."

"There's been one," Regulus replied, his voice hard again. "It brought me a letter demanding I write you more, even though you hadn't written me in forever! Then the owl started to attack me!"

"I told it not to come back without a letter from you because I'd written you tons, and I hadn't heard a thing back."

"Sure you did. It didn't work anyway. Father killed the owl."

"He killed it? That was a Hogwarts owl."

"It was attacking me!"

"Well, he didn't have to kill it!" Sirius wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn't. The Blacks never so much defeated their enemies as annihilated them. As far as Sirius could tell, the only good thing about being a Black was that it provided you with at least some measure of protection from other Blacks. At least, if you managed to reach adulthood without being beaten to death and could keep yourself from being disowned. Not that Sirius was worried about that.

"It was attacking me!"

"Okay, fine. Maybe sending an owl to bother you wasn't the best decision I've ever made, but I'm telling the truth about writing you. I swear on my honor as Lord Sirius the Hippogriff Tamer."

That elicited a small smile and a tiny, unsure, "Yeah, sure, okay."

A moment of silence passed between them, painful and awkward. Sirius didn't know what to say. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, counting each second, announcing to them both how much everything had changed.

"How are you feeling?" Regulus whispered

"A little like a got stepped on by a giant."

"You never screamed like that before," Regulus said, fear tinging his voice.

"He never locked me in the basement with trolls before."

"They weren't really trolls. They were boggarts. I tried to sneak downstairs to let you out, and I overheard them talking. Then Father caught me and caned me. By then, you had gone quiet, and Mother went down to check on you, but you were unconscious. That's when they called Mr. Crabbe because they knew he wouldn't tell anyone."

"I'm sorry you got caned on my account."

"It was my own fault."

"No, it wasn't. You didn't do anything wrong at all." Sirius wished Regulus could let go of the pipe dream of somehow gaining their father's affections. The thing was not possible, and Sirius had always known it. Orion was a bastard who bullied his children because it made him feel powerful. Sirius always knew that the fault lie with Orion and him alone. But Regulus was different. Regulus always thought he must have deserved it. He always thought that it would stop if he could do better, or be better.

"Does it still hurt?" Sirius asked, for something to say that wouldn't cause another row more than anything.

"Only a little. You're not the only one around here who can take a beating. I can be brave when I have to be."

Sirius gave him a small, encouraging smile, hating that his baby brother had had to learn that skill.

"Only another few months until you get to come to Hogwarts. You'll like it there, Reg. It's wicked. And we'll have a brilliant time."

"No, we won't." There was a bitterness in Regulus' voice that Sirius couldn't quite place.

"Of course we will. Why wouldn't we?"

"Because you're in Gryffindor, and I'm going to be in Slytherin."

"Maybe you won't be."

"I _want _to be in Slytherin, Sirius."

"Do you want to be or do you just know Mother and Father want you to be?"

Regulus shrugged. "Isn't it the same thing?"

"No, it isn't the same thing at all. You don't have to do what they want all the time. You can stand up for yourself, you know. You don't have to be their lapdog."

Regulus straightened, a flash of anger crossing his face. "I am not their lapdog. Just because I don't go out of my way to infuriate them."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did." Regulus' voice was hard. Just like their father's.

"No, I didn't. I just can't understand why you're defending them. It's not right, the way they treat us, Reg. You should see what it's like at Potter Manor. James' parents-"

"I don't want to hear about James, Sirius. He's not your family. We are. I'm starting to think Mother's right, and you really do like the Potters better than us."

"Is that what she told you?" Sirius asked. "That I like James better than you?"

Regulus shrugged, looking back toward his drawing.

"That's not true, Reg. There's no one in the whole world I like better than you."

Regulus looked up again, meeting Sirius' eyes. Their eyes were the exact same color. They were brothers, Sirius and Reg, and Sirius was determined not to let houses divide them or parents come between them.

"Sirius," Reg said, heartache in his tone. He paused a moment, letting the word hang between them, before dropping his eyes. "So, why did you go to Gryffindor?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. The hat puts you where it puts you."

"Father says it never puts anyone somewhere they don't want to go. He says you must have wanted to go to Gryffindor or it never would have sent you there."

"I didn't know where I wanted to go. I just knew I didn't want to go to Slytherin."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just... I don't want to be like Mother and Father. Or Bella. Or Cissy. Or any of them. Not going to Slytherin seemed like the best way to start."

"But you promised," Regulus said, a single tear running down his face. He brushed it away angrily, and Sirius sighed. Regulus had never before been ashamed to let Sirius see him cry.

"What?"

"You promised we could be on the quidditch team together and stay up all night. We can't do any of that now that you're in Gryffindor."

"Well, we can play quidditch against one another, just like we do at Uncle Alphard's. And we can still stay up. The Marauders wander around the castle at night all the time, and we hardly ever get caught. James has an invisibility cloak. You can be a Marauder, too, Reg. We can still do those things. Even if we're not in the same house. You'll see."

"But it won't be the same," Reg said, the slightest touch of a whinge in his voice, and Sirius had to remind himself that his brother was still very young. They were nearly two years apart in age, but they would be only one year apart in school. Regulus was born the 31st of August, barely making the 1 September deadline to enter Hogwarts this year. Sirius, whose birthday was 19 October, only just missed the deadline two years before. His parents had actually appealed for him to be sent on, but Dumbledore refused them. Sometimes Sirius suspected Orion still held a grudge. He was well used to getting whatever he wanted.

"We'll still have fun, though," Sirius assured him. "And we'll be away from Mother and Father."

"Did you really send me the paints?" Regulus asked, glancing up at Sirius through his fringe as he picked at his fingers. A nervous habit he had developed when they were young.

Sirius nodded. "I can prove it. The case was silver and inscribed with your initials, with ivy all around it."

Regulus absorbed that information silently. Finally he shook his head, like a dog trying to escape an irritating fly. "It doesn't make any sense. Mother and Father wouldn't lie to me."

Sirius sighed in frustration, seeing that he was getting nowhere. "And I wouldn't just not give you a Christmas present or just stop writing to you."

"It just doesn't make any sense," Regulus repeated.

Sirius sighed again, this time from something a little more than frustration. Anger, maybe. Disappointment. Hopelessness. "Believe whatever you want," he muttered, propelling himself, grimacing, through the door. He crossed the hall to his own room and shut himself in, leaning against the door for long moments, letting it support most of his weight. His legs felt as weak as toothpicks. His mind refused to accept what his heart already told him was true. Sirius had lost his baby brother. Regulus was theirs now. Sirius couldn't save him. It would only be a matter of time before he became a true Black.


	35. Peter: 8 June, 1972

Peter: 8 June, 1972

Peter sat on his decrepit swingset. It was moldy and rotted now, destroyed slowly by a thousand rainfalls and years of neglect, but his father had never bothered to take it down. The trapeze had long since broken, and the rope he used to climb had rotted away, but one wooden swing could still support his weight, so he still came out here and sat.

He always faced away from the house, looking off toward the skyline of the nearby muggle town, dominated as it was by a lonely steeple. Beyond the town, he could just make out the sea, glittering azure on the horizon. It was easy for him to imagine himself somewhere else if he couldn't see his house. He would pretend to be lord of the town, standing in his castle courtyard, looking out over his dominion. The fantasy never changed, for Peter had never been long on imagination. He was a practical sort, and always had been. Still, he enjoyed his little fantasy as much as he enjoyed the routine of swinging, the simplicity of back and forth; the swings were his favorite spot to think.

He'd spent the morning studying, and now he was bored. It was almost a blessing in disguise, coming home for a week. Peter had been in a state of near-constant worry over his upcoming exams. He was going to fail them all, he just knew it. Dumbledore was going to declare him unteachable, and they would toss him out. Then he would be stuck at home where everyone was too busy to teach him. He was going to end up a veritable squib - by design, if not by blood. He was probably only one step up from one anyway.

Sirius and Remus and James told him that wouldn't happen. They told him he would be fine. Sirius even whispered, when the others weren't listening, that they'd get him passed even if they had to cheat. Now, he wouldn't have to worry. He was quite confident in his ability to pass all his exams. Aunt Miriam had spent the better part of the week tutoring him, catching him up, and for the first time since the beginning of the year, he actually understood all of his classes. It was a good feeling: like he could take on the whole world and win. He wondered if this was how his friends felt all the time. Maybe he would get himself suspended every year before exams.

It wasn't a bad racket, really. A week's vacation. He'd had to endure a little half-hearted scolding from his father, mostly in whispers because Emory was afraid of waking Delilah, and Peter had been able to distract him only a few minutes in with the reminder that he hadn't written to Peter as he promised he would. After that, the scolding turned to apologies and reassurances and new promises that Peter knew would never be kept.

There had been a little more scolding the next morning when Aunt Miriam heard, but, while Miriam put significantly more effort into it, even that hadn't been as bad as McGonagall's yelling. All in all, Peter decided, this suspension thing wasn't so bad. Sure, he was a touch bored, but that was manageable. He had never really realized how exciting the Marauders made everything. Even going to class was an adventure as they raced through the corridors. James was quite long on imagination: he could make nearly anything exciting, and Remus told the best stories. Sometimes he told ghost stories at night that were so creepy Peter would lie awake for hours, his heart racing at every noise.

Peter hadn't expected to miss them this much. He wished they would show up, like they had over the Easter Holidays, though he knew they wouldn't. Not after the way he had thrown them out. He shouldn't have been so hasty that day, he knew, and he felt a little guilty when he thought about it, but he had been so humiliated he couldn't think straight. All he wanted was for them to leave. He had never apologized for kicking them out, he realized. Perhaps he should. Maybe he could even invite them over for the day sometime - on a day when Delilah was with the doctors, or in a good temper. It would have to be the former, he decided. Her good tempers were far too unpredictable.

Peter leaned his head against the knotty rope, taking in its damp, earthy smell. That smell always reminded him of his mother, before she got sick. She used to bring him out here and push him on the swings, sending him higher and higher. Sometimes she'd sit him in her lap and swing with him, holding him close and laughing. He could still recall the musical sound of her laughter and the comforting smell of her perfume. Other times, she'd sit on the other swing, and they'd race to see who could get highest. Peter always won; his mother would pump her legs furiously, but she wouldn't move.

Peter still remembered how happy she had been the day he worked out the timing to swing by himself. He remembered the rush of pride that had shot through him when he told her he could do it himself. She was already pregnant, then, and smiling brightly. In his mind's eye, Peter could still see her golden hair shining in the afternoon sun; prettier than the sunbeams themselves. Peter swung until he was tired, and then they lay in the grass, watching the clouds. He remembered his mother placing his hands on her belly to feel the baby kick. His eyes lit up with delight at the thought that that was his new baby brother or sister in there. He hadn't known, then, how quickly they were all rushing toward disaster.

That was one of the last times he saw his mother smile. It was only a few weeks later that the premature labor began and Audrey was born already dead. He hadn't been allowed to stay; he'd been ushered to Aunt Miriam's to wait. It was the first time in his life he ever felt in the way; it wasn't the last. One of his uncles waited with him, because Miriam was so busy helping Delilah. He didn't remember, now, which one it had been. Except for Miriam, Emory and Delilah's families had all but forgotten about them now. They were nothing more than names on a Christmas card to him.

Peter stopped swinging suddenly as an idea fell into his brain. He didn't have to wait for them to come to him. He knew how to use the floo, and he knew how to get to James' house; he'd been there over New Year's, after all. He wouldn't even be risking getting into trouble, as Miriam had gone home for the day and his parents would certainly never notice his absence. Hell, Emory had forgotten to feed him the night before, and when Peter reminded him, he just absently told Peter to go make a sandwich while he lovingly fed Delilah soup. Maybe Peter would just stay with the Potters for the rest of his suspension. He was sure James wouldn't mind.

Peter stepped cautiously out of the floo and into the living room of Potter Manor. Someone was bustling around in the kitchen, filling the house with the sort of scrumptious smells Peter's own house had once been filled with. He listened closely and heard Mrs. Potter singing a soft melody. Peter scampered up the stairs and into James' room.

James wasn't there, but Peter could still clearly hear the sound of dishes being banged in the kitchen, so he felt brave enough to continue his search. He found James in the library, sitting at a table leaning his cheek on his fist dejectedly as he frowned at a pile of books. When he saw Peter, he lit up like a Christmas tree, his smile so wide that Peter was filled with warmth. He was awfully glad to have James for a friend.

James jumped up and ushered him into the library, shutting the door behind him. "How did you get here?" James asked excitedly.

"The floo."

"Does anyone know you're here?"

Peter shook his head. "I sneaked past your mother."

James' eyes shone. "Brilliant!"

Peter wasn't sure what to do with James' approval, so he smiled shyly. "I missed you. And Remus. And Sirius."

James smiled mischievously. "We could go see them. I've about had enough of organizing the library anyway."

Peter thought that a wonderful idea. He'd probably have gone to see Remus instead of James, truth be told, only he didn't know how to get to Remus' house.

"I remember how to get to Remus' house. I heard his mother say it when she brought us home over the holidays. It was Number 8, Lovelace Lane."

Peter excitedly agreed that they should go, but then realized it had been only sheer dumb luck that kept him from being caught downstairs. "It's too risky. What if we're seen?"

James smiled mischievously again and said they'd take the invisibility cloak. He'd had it with him when they were caught, after all, and had managed to keep it from being confiscated. It was currently on the top of his closet. He stood on tiptoes to fish it down, presenting it with a flourish. Peter couldn't help but smile alongside him. James was like that. His joy was contagious.

"But won't your mum worry when she notices you're gone?" Peter asked.

James' smile disappeared into a scowl. "I don't care."

Peter wasn't sure what to say to that. Usually James was a complete pushover wherever his mother was concerned. His eyes would light up when she appeared, and many had been the time Peter had caught James writing embarrassingly mushy letters to her. Peter could see why, and the Marauders never took the mickey out of him for it. If Peter had had a mother like Mrs. Potter, he would adore her, too. Peter mirrored James' scowl and was still scowling when James' smile returned. He threw the cloak across his shoulders.

"Shall we?"

Peter rushed under the cloak, and they made their way slowly to the floo and told it their destination as loudly as they dared.

Remus looked up from the book he was reading when James and Peter steppeded out of the floo and into his parlor.

"Who's there?" Remus asked, studying the floo, his eyes darting back and forth.

"Remus, it's us!" James whispered. He threw off the cloak and Remus' eyes went wide. He looked over his shoulder and leapt up to close the door.

"What are you doing here?" Remus hissed. "You can't keep doing this! You got me in trouble last time. I'm already in enough trouble right now, thank you very much. I don't even want to talk to you. You got me suspended! My parents were furious! I got a smacking!" Judging from the look on his face, Remus thought he was describing the gravest tragedy in the history of the world.

"So?" James replied with a shrug. "I got one, too. Who cares?"

"I care!" Remus retorted. "My parents are disappointed!"

James looked at Remus as though he had lost his mind. "Fine. We only came because we missed you, but if you don't want to see us, we'll go."

Remus sighed, his expression softening. "It's not that I don't want to see you, it's just that... well... you got me in trouble."

"We didn't mean to. Snape's the one you should be cross with about that," Peter asserted.

Remus looked slightly chastened. He bit his lip, looked from Peter to James and back again. "I suppose you're right. Snape was the one who framed us. I'm sorry. I didn't meant to be a prat."

"No worries. Once we figure out how to get to Sirius' house, maybe we can work out how to get even with him," James said hopefully. "I bet Sirius already has some ideas."

"We can't go to Sirius'," Remus said, shaking his head. "If my parents find out, I don't even want to think about what they'll do to me."

"Maybe we can go get him and bring him back here. We can stay in your room and hide under the cloak if your parents come," Peter replied.

James turned to Peter, the look of approval back on his face. "That's a really good idea, Pete."

Peter smiled at the praise, marveling at the way it swelled in his chest, filling him with pride.

Remus caught his eye and smiled back. "As long as we're quick about it," he agreed. "I really don't want to get in trouble again."

James threw the cloak over all three of them. Peter had always loved being under the cloak with the Marauders, up to their eyeballs in these things shouldn't have been into. It felt quite a lot like belonging, and Peter had never really felt he belonged anywhere before.

"Erm, does anyone actually know how to get to Sirius' house?" James whispered.

"I know the address," Remus offered. "I saw him writing it on a letter to his brother once."

"And you actually remember it?" Peter asked, impressed. He'd probably seen Sirius address letters home a hundred times, but he'd never paid enough attention to have noticed the address, much less remember it.

"It's number twelve, Grimmauld Place," Remus reported.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place," James repeated.

"That's right," Remus assured him.

James reached out of the cloak and grabbed a handful of floo powder. They stopped in an empty grate looking out on a dark and frigid room. The furniture was staid and proper. It looked as though it had never been sat in and would be insulted by an attempt. The molding on the wall displayed tortured faces at the corners, and the carpet bore a stain that looked eerily like blood. A painting on the far wall of a terrifying-looking man with a black beard glared at them, muttering. Peter looked around and saw something frightening everywhere he looked. A statue of a three-headed dog snapped and snarled atop an organ whose keys had been filed to points, as though they had been made of extracted vampire fangs. A bust in the corner that looked uncomfortably like a hag eyed them as though it were hungry.

"I think this must be a mistake," Remus whispered.

"You must be right," James whispered back. "I can't imagine Sirius living in a place like this."

"We should go. This place gives me the creeps," Peter whispered.

He felt rather than saw James' answering nod. "It's clear dark wizards live here. We don't want to be caught. Let's hope there's some floo powder on the mantel."

No sooner had they stepped out of the fireplace than Peter found himself frozen in place, invisible shackles pressing painfully on his legs and chafing horribly at his wrists. Next to him, he heard Remus and James, but he guessed they were just as paralyzed as he was. The cloak slipped off of them as they struggled and fell to the floor. The bust in the corner opened its mouth and began to scream.

A black-haired man came running into the room, wand out. "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. James' wand flew out of his robes. Peter hadn't brought his wand. Remus obviously hadn't, either, as it never appeared.

The man fixed the Marauders with a glare that made Peter's blood run cold. There was nothing but cruelty in his black eyes. Peter recognized him immediately as Sirius' father. "What are you doing in my house?" His voice was smooth and far too silky. It sent shivers up Peter's spine. His stomach bunched into knots. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man would hurt him as soon as look at him. Mr. Black looked so much like Sirius it was uncanny, except for his eyes, which glittered with a cruelty that Peter was sure Sirius' could never possess.

"We must have made a mistake," James said, his voice surprisingly clear. "We're sorry. We were trying to get to Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. If you have some floo powder, we'll be on our way."

"What business have you in Grimmauld Place?" Mr. Black asked as a black-haired woman appeared behind him. Her eyes were gray, like Sirius', but they showed none of his warmth. Peter could tell that she was just as cold as her husband. He suddenly felt very sorry for Sirius. A boy appeared in Mrs. Black's wake, looking frightened. Sirius' little brother, Peter assumed. He had a kindness in his eyes that reminded Peter of Sirius. He caught Peter's eye and looked away.

"We're friends of Sirius'," Peter explained. "We met, in Dumbledore's office. We just wanted to come see him." Mr. Black's cold gaze focused on Peter, and Peter had the sudden feeling that his very soul was being searched and found lacking. "Sir," he added in a whisper, thinking that he should say something.

Mrs. Black whispered something to Mr. Black, and Mr. Black nodded before turning his gaze back to the Marauders.

"Sirius is in the cellar at the moment. I shall summon him, and he will tell me if you are truly his friends. If you are not... well... " Mr. Black let the threat hang in the air. Peter felt Remus stiffen beside him, sucking in his breath.

"Please, sir," James begged. "We just wanted to see Sirius. We're sorry. Please just let us go home."

"I'll go get Sirius," Sirius' brother volunteered.

Orion turned on him. Anger flashed across his features, but his voice stayed smooth. "Are you a servant? We have house elves for errands, Regulus. Creature!"

A few moments later, the ugliest, hairiest house elf Peter had ever seen appeared with a pop in front of Mr. Black and bowed low. "How can Creature serve Master Black?" Peter thought it awfully cruel to name the thing "creature".

"Go to the cellar and tell Sirius he has visitors," Mr. Black ordered. The house elf disappeared with another pop. It seemed to Peter, frozen and uncomfortable as he was, that a lifetime passed before Sirius appeared. His face was startlingly pale beneath a thin layer of dirt. He squinted in the light and his eyes were red and unfocused, as though he had just awakened.

Orion put a hand heavily on Sirius' shoulders. "Do you know these boys, Sirius?"

"They're my friends," Sirius said softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. He didn't look happy to see the Marauders at all. "That's James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew." Sirius pointed to each of them in turn. "They're fine. Let them in."

"Don't be a fool!" Orion hissed. "What have I taught you?" Even from across the room, Peter could see him tighten his grip on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius tried to jerk away, but Orion held him firm.

Sirius looked at Peter. All the fire had gone from his eyes, and he looked so miserable, Peter almost wanted to cry. "Peter, what do James and I call you when you're being annoying?"

"What?" Peter asked.

"Answer the question," Orion snarled, raising his wand menacingly.

"Worm Guts!" Peter cried. "You call me Worm Guts!"

"That's right," Sirius agreed. "Remus, which girl did I tell you fancies you in Transfiguration last week."

"Erin Collins," Remus whispered, blushing furiously.

James forgot himself long enough to exclaim, "Erin Collins!"

"Quiet, boy!" Orion barked.

Sirius looked apologetically at James, who clamped his mouth closed. "James, what's my record for rock skipping?"

"Seventeen," James said. "But I thought you were cheating."

"That's really them," Sirius said dully.

The invisible shackles around Peter's wrists and ankles disappeared. His hands immediately flew to his wrists to rub them. The skin was raw from just the short time he had spent constrained.

"My sincerest apologies, boys," Mr. Black said. He didn't sound the least bit sorry. "These are dangerous times, you know. One can't be too careful."

"Go home," Sirius ordered, his voice soft and flat.

Mrs. Black smacked him, hard, across the backside. Sirius' body arched to escape the blow and a pitiful cry filled with much more pain than the smack could have possibly warranted tore out of his lips.

"Have you forgotten your manners?" Mrs. Black spat at him. "Your friends went to all the trouble to come see you. The least you can do is entertain them. Creature!"

The house elf appeared again and disappeared promptly after Mrs. Black ordered it to bring refreshments to Sirius' room.

Sirius looked at the Marauders sullenly, almost resentfully. Peter suddenly wished he had stayed home. "Come on then," Sirius said, motioning them forward. Sirius was not a cheerful guide, but he was certainly an informative one. The Marauders swept from room to room, Sirius' family following along behind, as Sirius told them every detail of the house. A few times when they were finished in a room, Mr. Black would clear his throat meaningfully and Sirius would pause, thinking for a moment, before he spouted off another mundane detail that Peter couldn't have cared less about.

Each room was as chilling as the one through which they had entered. Worst of all, though, was the staircase. The heads of dead house elves were mounted on the walls like trophies. Peter heard James muttering as they passed underneath. Peter thought' James' soft spot for house elves was a little silly, but even he had to agree that the Blacks' display was awful.

When they reached the third floor, Sirius' parents finally left. Mrs. Black told the Marauders to have fun and behave in what she clearly thought was a playful tone, but that came out sounding like a threat. Sirius led them to the nearest door. A dead owl, its wings spread wide, was mounted on the wall above it. Peter stepped through, bracing himself for whatever scary thing would be in here, but it turned out to be the first normal-looking room they had seen. There was a large bed with a silver and green bedspread and silver and green throw pillows arranged atop it. Posters of the London Lions adorned the walls. The desk was covered in drawings and a letter that had James' name on it.

"This is my room," Sirius explained. "Make yourselves comfortable. My parents probably won't let you leave for a while. They'll want to be sure I'm being a good host."

"But we have to get back," Remus whispered. "We were going to find you and then go back to my house. My mother will miss me if I'm gone long."

Sirius snorted humorlessly. "Good luck with that."

"Sirius, are you-" James asked, but Sirius cut him off.

"I'm fine."

A clock ticked loudly on the wall. No one said anything for long moments. Peter coughed, hoping to fill the silence. The house elf appeared with a tray full of things to eat. Peter wasn't hungry.

"You shouldn't have come here," Sirius said harshly, looking at the floor, when the house elf had gone. "He might have hurt you."

"We wanted to see you," Peter said, his voice shaky. The adrenaline had not yet stopped going through him, and his tour through Sirius' house of horrors hadn't helped anything.

Sirius looked at Peter. His mouth worked as though he wished to say something, but couldn't get the words out. "I'll be right back. Stay here," he finally said, charging out the door and closing it behind him.

"What do you reckon?" James asked.

"Poor Sirius," Remus murmured.

James nodded.

"I think his parents... hurt him," Remus said softly, his face so concerned it was almost heartbreaking.

"I don't know," James replied.

"Imagine having to live here," Peter said.

"Imagine having to live here with that lot," James added.

"Yeah," Peter agreed.

"Poor Sirius," Remus murmured again. He sounded on the verge of tears.

No one spoke again until Sirius reappeared. He looked a little happier, or maybe he'd just washed his face. In any event, the dirt was gone and his cheeks were rosy again. Some of the passion had returned to his eyes. He tossed James a jar of something. "Put this on your wrists and ankles. It'll help. The shackles are designed to burn."

"Why does your fireplace have shackles?" James asked, scooping out a large glop of the salve and handing it off to Remus. Peter found himself suddenly impatient. The mention of his injuries had made them twinge painfully.

"My family are a bit paranoid sometimes. We have several protections in place to prevent attacks. The house is unplottable and hidden from muggles. A person can't enter through the floo unless they've been invited. No one can apparate in, either, without some painful consequences, and the house will attack anyone if the master orders it. My great-grandfather added the shackles to all the fireplaces after his son was murdered in his bed. The assassin sneaked in through an empty guest room that he had forgotten to guard. Each generation adds new things. It's all getting a little out of hand, if you ask me."

"Sirius, can I ask you a question?" Remus asked timidly.

Sirius went to his bed and flopped across it, propping himself on his elbows and inviting the others to join him. "Sure."

"What were you doing in the cellar?"

Sirius' face showed nothing as he responded, but Peter knew instinctively that he was lying. "That's where they keep the wine." Sirius gave his friends a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

The time passed slowly. Sirius glanced often at the clock as though waiting for the moment when he could declare the visit over. When he finally did so, it felt abrupt and arbitrary, but Peter was glad to be able to leave. Sirius showed them downstairs and toward the frigid room where they had entered. Mr. Black was leaving as they entered, ushering a very uncomfortable and sour looking man out the door.

"Leaving so soon, boys?" he asked. His smile was so charming that Peter almost forgot he'd threatened the Marauders' only a few short hours ago. Peter nodded along with his friends.

"Remus has to get back soon. His parents told him he couldn't stay long," Sirius explained.

"Very well. It was lovely having you boys, and you're welcome any time." Mr. Black turned back to his guest and continued ushering him out the door.

"Mr. Black?" James called timidly.

Mr. Black turned, the slightest touch of annoyance in his face. "Yes?"

"Can Sirius come spend the rest of the week with me? That was why we came over here - to invite him. My parents will make sure he gets back to Hogwarts."

Mr. Black's eyes flicked from Sirius and James and back again. Sirius looked as though he had never been less interested in anything in the world than going to Potter Manor.

"I don't know about that. Sirius is being punished."

James nodded. "Well, it wasn't really his fault, Mr. Black. It was my fault, mostly."

Mr. Black smiled his charming smile again, though the cruelty didn't quite leave his eyes. "I know Sirius a little too well to fall for that line, young man, but it will be nice to have some quiet in the house again. Very well. He can go."

"Quiet in the house," Sirius muttered under his breath as he made his way up the stairs to pack a bag. He marched so quickly the others were forced to trot to keep up. "If I've made any noise it's because he was torturing me."

He went to his room and kicked a troll leg rubbish bin across it. "Bastard. He can't wait to be rid of me."

"Well, you didn't look to keen on leaving," Peter pointed out.

Sirius crossed the room to right the rubbish bin. "Of course I didn't! If he'd known I wanted to go, he'd never have let me, the wanker."

He muttered the entire time he was packing his bags. "Your parents are okay with this, right?" he asked James when he had finished.

James shrugged. "They will be. They love you."

Sirius' mouth twitched into the slightest smile. He nodded and hoisted his bag onto his shoulder, stooping a little under its weight. The day after they arrived home, all the Marauders had received a package with all their schoolbooks in it. They'd been getting daily homework assignments as well.

Remus' relief was almost palpable when they stepped out of the floo and into his parlor and discovered that his absence had gone unnoticed. Peter looked at the clock and saw that what had felt like a lifetime in Sirius' room had really only been about an hour.

"Can we go to James' next? Only I'm about to die if I can't put this bag down," Sirius grunted after Remus had said his goodbyes and scampered up to his room.

At Potter Manor, they were not so lucky as they'd been at Remus'. Mrs. Potter was waiting for them. James sighed and slipped out from under the cloak. "Where have you been?" Mrs. Potter demanded, tapping her foot angrily, the moment she saw him. "You are in loads of trouble, James Michael."

"But I went to get Sirius," James explained.

Sirius popped his head out of the cloak and waved. Mrs. Potter softened. "I'm sorry, my dear one, but you can't stay. James is being punished. He can't have friends over just now."

"Mum, please let him stay," James begged. "I'll still do my homework and organize the library. It'll be the most organized it's ever been. Only please let him stay!" James threw his arms around his mother, looking up at her adoringly.

Mrs. Potter took a deep breath as though steeling herself. "The answer is no, Jamie. You know you're not allowed to invite friends over without permission. The answer is no, and that's final."

Sirius looked crestfallen. He bit his lip nervously. "Will you come back and explain it to my parents? Only I don't want them thinking I invited myself."

Mrs. Potter reached out to caress his face. She looked as though she were warring with herself, and for a moment Peter thought she was going to change her mind. But in the end, she stood firm. "Of course I will. I'll go over there right now and make sure you aren't blamed."

Sirius nodded, though he still looked nervous. "Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?"

"Go ahead. I'll be back in a moment." Peter scrambled to get out of the way as Mrs. Potter stepped toward the floo.

James grabbed Mrs. Potter's wrist. "You can't go over there. Their fireplace captures people."

"I've been there before," Mrs. Potter said wryly. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"But you can't send him back. You said he could come any time!"

"James," Mrs. Potter began, but James cut her off.

"They had him locked in the cellar, Mum."

Mrs. Potter's eyes went wide. "The cellar?" Her voice trailed off as her eyes went misty. "Oh that poor dear."

"Mum, please," James begged once more. "You have to let him stay. You can't send him back there. You just can't!"

This time Mrs. Potter didn't have to think about it. "Yes, of course he can stay. And you're right. I did say he was welcome here any time. Only from now on, please at least ask us before you invite him? Also, you're still being punished. I expect all your homework and your chores to be done. Understand?"

James nodded emphatically. "Yes, ma'am."

Sirius' entire face transformed when was told he could stay. He threw his arms around Mrs. Potter, thanking her profusely, then he and James ran up the stairs together, forgetting about Peter entirely. Mrs. Potter sat in a rocking chair by the fire and sighed loudly before picking up her knitting. Peter had no escape. James and Sirius never reappeared, but the moment Mrs. Potter went to check on dinner, he bolted up to James' room. He and Sirius were on the bed, discussing doing their Charms homework, though they didn't appear to actually be doing it.

"You're still here?" James asked, when he showed his face.

"Of course I'm still here," Peter snapped. "You left me down there!"

"Well, you should probably get going," Sirius told him. "You don't want your parents to miss you."

"My parents never miss me," Peter grumbled, trying not too feel hurt that his friends had clearly forgotten about him, and now they didn't even seem sorry.

"Then stay," James said with a shrug. "Only don't let my mum see you. I don't think she'd appreciate two surprise guests in one day."

"We were just about to start our Charms homework," Sirius said with a small smile. "You're good at Charms. Maybe you can help us."

Peter smiled back. He was good at Charms. It was his best subject. "Nah, I should get back," he said softly, his smile fading.

James nodded his agreement. "We'll walk you to the floo. Sirius can distract my mum if she's in there."

Mrs. Potter was in there, back in her spot by the fire. "Mum, Sirius is hungry," James said.

Mrs. Potter never seemed happier than when she was feeding someone, so she rose quickly and ushered Sirius into the kitchen. Peter took off the cloak and gave it back to James. "See you in a few days."

"Yes, see you!" James agreed. Peter took the floo powder and stepped in, spinning and rushing until he landed in his own living room, where no one had even noticed he was gone.


	36. Remus: 11 June, 1972

Remus: 11 June, 1972

"Bye, maman," Remus said softly, giving her one last, fleeting hug.

Charlotte cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. "A bientôt, mon chéri. Sois sage."

"Oui," Remus agreed. After his adventures in Grimmauld Place, behaving would not be a problem for Remus, because he was never letting the Marauders talk him into misbehaving again.

The floo flared green, and Remus and Charlotte stepped aside to let the person through. It was James, Sirius, and Mrs. Potter.

Sirius put on a fantastic show of having missed Remus, even though they'd seen each other only three days before. Remus played his part well, gravely agreeing that he had missed Sirius and James back.

"Then perhaps that will inspire you to behave in the future," Professor McGonagall said, not unkindly.

"Yes, ma'am," Remus agreed.

"These boys? Behave? Minerva, you must be joking," Mrs. Potter teased. She reached out to ruffle James' hair, but James stepped out of her reach, his expression unreadable. Mrs. Potter frowned. McGonagall didn't seem to notice, but James looked up at his mother. His frown mirrored her own as he obviously warred with himself. After only a few seconds, he stepped closer again and took her hand. She put an arm around his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. "You will behave, won't you, Jamie?"

"Yes, I will," he told her. "I promise." He certainly sounded sincere, but Remus knew better.

"You, too, Sirius," Mrs. Potter said, holding a hand out to Sirius. He hugged her, repeating James' promise to behave.

The floo flared again, and Peter stepped through, alone. Remus waited a moment for his father or aunt to join him, but no one appeared.

"Where are your parents, Pettigrew? I wish to speak with them."

"They're busy," Peter whispered. He hitched his bag up on his shoulder and looked at the ground, blushing brightly.

"They sent you through the floo alone?" McGonagall asked.

Peter's head jerked up, his eyes narrowed. "I'm old enough to come back to school by myself. I don't need someone holding my hand."

Remus suspected someone had said those same words to Peter not long before.

McGonagall did not address his disrespect. Rather, she switched modes quickly. "Well, boys, now that you're all here, I am sure I needn't tell you that I expect you all to be on your best behavior for the remainder of the term. I can promise you, if any of you-" McGonagall took a moment to glare at each Marauder in turn. Remus looked at the ground when it was his turn, squirming uncomfortably. Even without looking at her, he could feel her eyes boring into him- "puts so much as a toe out of line, I will make sure you regret it."

The Marauders all nodded, falling over themselves to agree.

"Yes, ma'am."

"We'll behave."

"We promise."

"We'll be good."

There was another round of hugs and kisses. Remus felt bad that there was no one to kiss Peter, but Mrs. Potter smiled at him and patted his shoulder. That seemed to make him feel a little bit better.

After the goodbyes were said and said again, the Marauders were ushered into the corridor with a few more stern reminders to behave themselves and strict orders to go straight to their common room and not leave there until breakfast the next morning. Remus was quite sure they could manage that, although James was already beginning to get that gleam in his eye: the one that said he was plotting something.

"What are we going to do to Snape tonight?" Peter asked as they walked.

"Nothing," Sirius replied.

Peter stopped short. "Nothing?"

Remus couldn't begrudge Peter his surprise. Remus almost couldn't believe what he was hearing as well.

James turned to face Peter. "That's right, nothing. Sirius and I discussed it, and we decided it's not worth being suspended again."

"But, he framed us!" Peter looked as though he couldn't understand what was happening. "We're not going to let him get away with that, are we? What about our pride? What about our reputations?"

"Oh, we'll get even," Sirius said darkly, something raw and frightening in his tone. "I'll get even with him if it's the last thing I ever do. Only not tonight. He'll be expecting it tonight, anyway. We'll have to be careful."

Remus didn't think he liked the sound of that. He preferred the business about not being suspended again. "Here's an idea. How about we leave him alone?"

James scoffed.

"I'm serious! I think we should leave him be. If we leave him be, he'll let us be, and then we won't have to worry about being careful."

James and Sirius shared an incredulous look. James turned back to Remus. "You're joking, right?"

Remus shook his head. "I don't want to get into trouble again."

Sirius and James shrugged and began walking on.

"No, I mean it!" Remus said, following behind his friends. "I'm not going to risk getting suspended again. It was awful. My parents were angry."

James turned on him. "And that doesn't bother you? Your parents were angry. We all got in trouble, and we hadn't even done what they said we did." James scowled. "My parents wouldn't even believe me when I tried to tell them. Then I got in trouble for lying."

Remus could see on his face how much it bothered James to have been punished for something he hadn't done. Trust was so important to him, but Remus couldn't get into trouble again. He just couldn't.

"But that doesn't mean we have to-"

"Yes, it does! How can you just stand there and not do anything? Don't you want to defend yourself?"

Remus drew in his breath at the sound of James' shout. James had never shouted at him before. His heart beat quickly in his chest, and adrenaline twisted his insides. He didn't want to get into trouble again, but he couldn't bear the thought of James being cross with him either. He had seen the way James could hold a grudge, and the thought of losing his friend terrified him. No matter what he did, someone would be disappointed in him. His throat constricted painfully and he felt tears stinging his eyes.

Not knowing what else to do, Remus turned on his heel and fled, running as quickly as his legs would carry him. He sought refuge in an empty classroom, fighting the tears that wanted to come. When he heard footsteps and his friends' voices in the hallway, he retreated to a darkened corner, hoping he could hide from them. He was ashamed to face them. Ashamed of his tears.

Remus always wished he could have been stronger - been the kind of person who could stay stoic through anything, like Sirius, or even the kind of person who simply didn't care what anyone else thought. But he wasn't. He was a big baby, and he knew it. He couldn't help it. He hated thinking of hurting anyone.

"I think he went in here," James said. The doorknob began to turn. Remus looked around the room for a place to hide. There was a cupboard only a few steps away from him. He could hide in there. He rushed to it and opened the door just as the Marauders came into the room.

Remus gasped and stepped back as moonlight poured out of the cupboard. Instead of the back of the cupboard, the opening doors revealed a window, framing the full moon, which shone so brightly Remus nearly had to shield his eyes. Remus couldn't believe he'd forgotten it was a full moon tonight. Any moment now, he would begin to change. He turned to his friends. He had to warn them, to tell them to run. He would hurt them; he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Then they'd be werewolves, too - prisoners of time and blood.

"Run," Remus gasped, fear choking him. They stood in a clump by the door, watching him, confusion on their faces. "Run!" he repeated with more urgency. If they weren't gone when he changed, this would be the last time he would ever see them. He could never forgive himself if he hurt them.

Instead of running, Sirius came forward. "NO!" Remus howled. "You have to stay away!" There were only seconds now, if that. Didn't the Marauders understand that? He could feel the light of the full moon on him, boiling his blood.

Sirius stood next to Remus. "What is that?" he asked. Remus backed away, hoping to get as far away from his friends as he could. Maybe they'd still have time to run once he began to transform. Maybe they could lock him into the room. Maybe they could get help. Maybe it would be okay. Remus backed into a wall and slid down it, tears coursing down his face. He hid his head in his hands, waiting for the monster to burst forth. Everyone would find out. He'd be expelled. He couldn't understand how this was happening. He'd just transformed a few days before, while he was home. It couldn't be time again already, could it?

Remus heard screaming. He must be transforming, but it didn't feel like transforming. He still felt normal, only scared. He chanced a glance at his friends and saw Sirius standing in front of a full grown mountain troll, screaming his head off.

James ran forward to pull him away from it, and the troll dissolved into the largest snake Remus had ever seen. There was no trace of the moon. The back of the cupboard now looked how the back of a cupboard ought to look. The window was gone. James did not scream, as Sirius had, but his eyes went wide and he stepped backward, stumbling over a dusty desk. He hit the ground hard and scrambled away from the snake, which had already turned back into a troll and was bearing down on Sirius.

Sirius closed his eyes tightly. "It's only a boggart. It's only a boggart," he mumbled to himself. His face was white as a ghost, just as it had been when they saw him in Grimmauld Place. James found his courage and came forward again to pull Sirius to safety. The troll turned on Peter and dissolved once more, reforming into an image of his father.

"I never loved you, you know," Mr. Pettigrew said. "You were only in the way. You've always been in the way. A waste of space. A waste of time. All you ever do is upset your mother."

Tears flew down Peter's cheeks and his mouth worked. "I hate you!" he finally screamed, kicking at his father. His foot went straight through the apparition.

"What in the world is going on here?" McGonagall's voice came from the doorway. Remus had never been so glad to see her in his life, even if they were probably in trouble for not going straight to the common room. Charlotte and Mrs. Potter were right behind.

"Mum!" James called out, his voice strangled. "Mum, make it stop! Please!" He crossed the room to her faster than Remus would have thought possible and buried his head in her shoulder.

McGonagall pulled Peter away as he continued his attempted assault upon the vision of his father, which continued to taunt him, saying things Remus could never have imagined. Remus wanted to get up, to help his friend. But he was frozen to the spot. If he moved, the moon might come back.

McGonagall faced Mr. Pettigrew, and he faded into the image of banshee, screaming with all its might.

"Oh, save it," McGonagall snapped. "Riddikulus!"

The banshee disappeared with a small crack. For a moment, no one moved. Then Peter let out a loud sob. "W-what was th-that?"

"Boggart," Sirius whispered. "It becomes your fears." His face was still white, but the color was beginning to return.

"Charlotte was at Remus' side in a heartbeat, crouching next to him. "Ça va, ma puce?"

Remus nodded, even though he wasn't all right at all. "I saw the full moon. It was so real. I thought I was going to transform. I could almost feel it happening," he whispered in French, softly, so no one else would hear.

"Everything is fine now. It's gone," she assured him.

Remus nodded again and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He leaned into his mother, fighting against the last vestiges of tears. Sirius had made his way to Mrs. Potter, who had her arms wrapped around both him and James. There was still no one to hug Peter, so he hugged himself, alone in the middle of the room, occasionally wiping at his wet face. McGonagall looked around at all of them and went to Peter, holding out a handkerchief for him. She patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "There, there. It's over now."

The Marauders calmed quickly, once the danger had passed and they slowly came to realize that they weren't about to be transformed, murdered, eaten, or rejected. Peter's shuddering breaths were the only sound in the room for long moments. Finally, McGonagall spoke.

"I thought I told you to go directly to your common room."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, to explain what had happened.

"It was my fault." James looked at the floor as he spoke. "I heard something in here and wanted to know what it was. The others only came in after I started yelling. They were trying to rescue me."

"Jamie!" Mrs. Potter scolded, but she hugged him tighter all the same. She shook her head. "Why can't you ever just do as you're told?"

James shrugged. "I thought maybe it was Peeves. I'm really sorry."

"Well, it was only a boggart," McGonagall said. "I suppose there was no lasting harm done. You'll be spending tomorrow evening in detention, Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor for being out of bounds." McGonagall looked around to the other Marauders. "And five points to the rest of you for helping him. That was very brave. Now I expect you all to go straight to your common room, and if I catch you not doing so, or if any of you put so much as a toe out of the portrait hole before breakfast, I'll cane the lot of you. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the Marauders replied in unison, all nodding eagerly to prove their sincerity.

"Good. Go on, then."

One last round of hugs, and the Marauders scarpered, more than ready to be safely in their common room and out of trouble. By the time they arrived at the portrait hole, James seemed to have decided that their encounter with a boggart was a glorious adventure.

"And did you see it when it became a troll? That was the biggest troll I ever saw!"

"We were there, James. We all saw it!" Sirius snapped.

James stopped with one foot in the portrait hole. "Oi! What are you snapping at me for?"

"Just go into the common room, James," Sirius replied with a sigh.

"No. I want to know you're upset about." He said it in the demanding tone he sometimes mustered that usually made people give him whatever he wanted. Even a few of the teachers could be subdued by it. His parents certainly could. Remus and Peter would both fall in line when he used it. Sirius, however, was immune. If anything, his face grew more sour.

"We're going to be caned if McGonagall catches us out here. Is that what you want?"

"No!" Remus cried, even though the question wasn't directed at him. If he never felt the cane again, it would be too soon for him; he'd made it one of his personal life goals to get through the rest of his days at Hogwarts without another dose of the thing.

"And don't mind me," the Fat Lady's voice floated toward them in a flurry of irritation. "I'll just hang here open all night. It isn't as if I have anything better to do."

James swung the portrait closed and eyed the occupant. "What could you possibly have to do? You're a portrait."

The Fat Lady looked affronted for a moment before she launched into a scathing lecture about manners and how children in her day were never cheeky to their elders. Remus was always suspicious when adults began saying things like that, but he thought it best if he didn't mention it. The Fat Lady could go on, though. It was the most Remus had ever heard her say. He silently vowed never to get on the wrong side of her again, although, he reminded himself, technically James had been the one to get on her bad side. It seemed James was usually the one who got on people's bad side, though he was usually able to charm his way into their good graces again. It was a decidedly useful skill, and one Remus wished he possessed.

"Aren't you finished yet?" James asked. "Only we'd like to get inside before dawn."

Then again, maybe he wasn't so charming after all.

The Fat Lady leapt up from her chair, quivering with rage. Even the pink frills on her dress shook with the force of her ire. If she weren't a painting, the effect would have been frightening. As it was, it was merely humorous. James snorted with laughter. Remus braced himself for the explosion he knew was coming.

"I have never been so insulted in all my life. If I had known what I would have to endure at the hands of students, I never would have agreed to do this job. I demand an apology right this instant."

"Or you'll what?" James asked.

"Would you just apologize to her already, so we can go in," Sirius said.

"No. I'm not going to apologize to a portrait," James replied stubbornly.

"Well!" the Fat Lady exclaimed, in all her outraged majesty. "Then you can just spend the night in the corridor."

And with that, she stomped off, leaving only an empty chair inside her frame. The Marauders could see her stalking through the nearby paintings, though she moved so quickly she was soon out of sight, and she ignored all their requests for her to come back.

"Way to go, James," Peter muttered.

"It isn't my fault she can't take a joke!"

"Why couldn't you just apologize to her?" Sirius asked. "Now how are we going to get in?"

Remus remembered very suddenly what McGonagall had said. "If McGonagall catches us out here, we'll be caned!"

"We won't be caned," James said swiftly. "It isn't our fault if the Fat Lady is gone."

"It is your fault, though," Peter snapped. "Why do you always have to be such a prat?"

"Well, obviously, I didn't think she'd leave!" James protested. "And you better not call me a prat again."

"Alohomora!" Sirius said, pointing his wand at the portrait. Nothing happened.

"You didn't really think that would work, did you?" James asked.

"No, but I reckoned it was worth a try. Maybe we can get the portrait down and get in that way?"

The Marauders tried, but the portrait was stuck tight. Sirius tried several counter-spells, but nothing worked.

"Sticking charm, I'd wager," Sirius noted dully.

"What now?" Remus asked.

"Now we wait, I suppose," James answered. "Not much else we can do. Anyone up for gobstones?"

The Marauders had only just sat down and got settled for their game when McGonagall appeared. Remus wasn't surprised. He had learned that obedience rarely went on honor at Hogwarts. Not like at home, where his parents trusted him to obey them, which he nearly always did.

The Marauders stood quickly as she approached. They all began explaining at once.

"That's quite enough, boys," McGonagall said, holding up a hand to silence them.

"You're not going to cane us, are you?" Remus asked, a slight shiver in his voice.

"It's all James' fault!" Peter snitched. "He insulted her!"

"I did not insult her!" James said, pushing Peter. "Not on purpose, anyway."

"That's enough of that, Potter. You're in quite enough trouble already without adding fighting to the list."

James looked at the ground and apologized, though Remus could tell he wasn't sorry.

"The Pink Lady is very... sensitive," McGonagall said, choosing her words delicately. "I believe that you didn't mean to insult her. It's hardly the first time someone's managed to insult her by accident, anyway. She quits every few years or so, but whenever we talk of replacing her, she kicks up a fuss about it. For all her complaining about it, this job makes her feel important. I'll see if I can find a replacement for her until she decides to come back. You boys stay here."

McGonagall returned half an hour later with a very solemn and very drunken monk. "Once he sobers up, he'll be a fine guardian. We've used him before. Brother Caradoc is his name. Open the portrait hole, Brother Caradoc."

The monk swayed slightly as he sat in the Fat Lady's chair. The portrait hole swung open and the Marauders clambered through, glad to finally have access to their beds.

They rushed into the common room, sure they'd never leave the safety of their sanctuary again. They were greeted warmly as they entered; apparently James and Sirius had been missed, and Snape had been insufferable with his gloating while they were gone. Remus almost thought he heard James growl when someone asked if it was true Snape had framed them.

"Of course he didn't frame us," James said with a smirk. "He's not smart enough to do that. All he did was run tattling like a little girl."

The assembled Gryffindors laughed appreciatively at that as Sirius and James extricated themselves. Remus breathed a little sigh of relief when they got to the dormitory. In all the excitement since they returned, he had nearly forgotten how late it was and how tired he was. It was early for bed yet, but he couldn't wait to put on his pajamas and lie down. It was a perfect night for curling up with a good book.

James stopped short the moment he stepped into the dormitory. The others, who had been following along behind, walked into him. He stumbled forward, dropping his bag. Remus quickly saw why he had stopped. Lily was sitting on his bed, cooing at one of the kittens.

"Lily!"

Lily looked up. "Hello," she said simply, and turned her attentions back to the kitten.

"You're in my bed," James said stupidly, as though it were an accusation.

Lily stood quickly. "I can leave, if you like."

"No!" James nearly shouted. "No, you can stay."

"What are you doing in here?" Sirius asked, stepping around James, who stood gaping. Remus and Peter followed his lead. Remus made a beeline for his own bed.

"Gretchen, Erin, Lesley, and I have been taking care of the kittens."

"And a good thing, too," Dirk added, coming out of the bathroom. "Griselda's been driving us batty since you left."

As though to prove his point, Griselda appeared at that moment, wrapping herself around James' leg and meowing pitifully. James picked her up. "Aw, did you miss me?" Griselda buried her head in the crook of his arm. He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "I missed you, too, my sweet kitty."

"Michael and I have hardly slept because she kept meowing all night. Michael finally kicked her out on Wednesday, and the girls took over caring for her. She's been quite a lot calmer since that happened."

Griselda purred so loudly in James' arms that Remus could hear it from across the room. James carried her to his bed and sat next to Lily. "Have you had a good week?" he asked awkwardly.

Lily nodded. "It was fine. Now that you're back, I suppose I should be going. See you."

Lily rose and strode from the room. James shook his head. "I really don't understand her."

"No one understands girls," Peter muttered, pulling back the curtains around his bed.

"I do," Sirius piped up.

"Ew!" Peter exclaimed. "James! Your cat puked on my bed!"

"Ew," James repeated. He lifted Griselda up. "Did you puke on Peter's bed?" Griselda meowed in response. "Bad kitty," James cooed at her, smiling affectionately all the while. "You shouldn't puke on people's beds."

"I'll help you clean it up," Remus offered. Luckily, one of the house elves had made Peter's bed for him while he was gone, so only the bedspread was sullied. Remus and Peter peeled it off the bed and tossed it into a corner of the bathroom. They'd ask one of the house elves to wash it once they were free of their house arrest.

James offered up his red and gold quilt as a replacement. "I know you've put up with quite a lot from Griselda, and you don't even like cats. I try to keep her off your bed. I really do. Only cats sort of have a mind of their own."

"It's fine," Peter said, pushing James' quilt away. "It's a warm night. I just want to go to bed." He plopped down on his bed and pulled the curtains.

"What do you reckon?" James asked softly.

"Didn't you see the boggart?" Remus asked.

James and Sirius nodded.

"Did you hear what it said to him?"

James shook his head, but Sirius nodded. "It was pretty awful."

"I can hear you whispering, you know, and I know it's about me. I'm not stupid!" Peter snapped, his voice muffled by the heavy draperies around his bed.

"Let's go downstairs," Sirius suggested in a whisper.

"I'm tired," Remus said. "I think I'll stay up here and go to bed."

"Suit yourself," James said with a shrug as he and Sirius turned to go.

A few moments later, Remus heard a shriek from the common room. "Jamie! It's true! They told me you were back! Oh, I missed you!" Remus could easily envision James blushing furiously as Gretchen threw herself at him. He fought back a small smile; he had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

"Peter?"

"Leave me alone."

"Are you all right?"

"I said leave me alone!"

Remus couldn't understand Peter sometimes. Whenever he was unhappy about anything, he always insisted upon being left alone, but then, once he'd calmed, he would complain that no one gave him any attention when he was upset. Remus decided that he probably wanted company, despite his insistence to the contrary. Remus pulled the curtains around Peter's bed. Peter turned his back on him. Remus sat next to him, not sure what to say. "It was only a boggart."

"It wasn't only a boggart," Peter replied, tears in his voice. "It was true. My dad hates me."

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you."

"He didn't even notice when I was gone the other day."

"My parents didn't notice I was gone, either."

"I was gone a lot longer than you were. After we dropped you off, we went to James' house and I ended up trapped there because his mum was sitting in front of the floo. I got home, and no one had even noticed. James' mum noticed he was gone."

"Yes, but you can't really judge by her. She's sort of... overprotective, don't you think?"

Peter shrugged.

"Don't you remember when we were there over the holiday, and she made him go lie down because he sneezed?"

Peter turned back, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that. She made him eat chicken soup."

"Sort of makes you wonder what she's like when he's really sick."

Peter's smiled brightened. "She probably whisks him off to St. Mungo's for a head cold." His smiled faded again. "I had scarlet fever once, when I was four. My mother never left my side the whole time I was sick. She slept in my room. My dad said she was going to end up making herself sick, worrying about me."

Remus wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing and gave Peter a sympathetic smile.

"My Aunt Miriam says she'll never get better," Peter whispered.

"Maybe she will," Remus offered. It was a stupid thing to say, Remus knew. Peter's aunt probably knew way better than he, Remus, did, but he wasn't sure what else to say.

"Aunt Miriam doesn't like my mum," Peter said. He sat up and stared at the ground, picking at his blanket as though he were sharing a forbidden secret. "I don't think she likes my dad much, either."

Peter looked up at Remus as though seeking approval, as though waiting for Remus to tell him it was acceptable to admit family feuds. Remus didn't know if it was or not. His family had no real feuds to speak of, though Remus happened to know Daniel didn't like his sister's husband. Still, he kept it mostly to himself, so that neither his sister nor her husband were any the wiser.

"She likes me," Peter went on, cutting his eyes away. "Sometimes I wish I could go live with her, or that she were my mum. At least she would notice if I went missing for an entire afternoon. Maybe I can spend the summer with her."

"Maybe," Remus agreed. "And don't forget that we're all going camping with James in July, and I'll ask my mum and dad if you can come spend a few weeks with us. I'm sure they'll say yes."

Peter turned his face toward Remus. "You really think so?"

Remus nodded. "As long as... as long as I'm feeling well."

Peter's eyes narrowed, searching Remus' face. "What've you got, anyway?"

"I haven't got anything. I just get sick sometimes."

"Yeah, but with what?"

Remus shrugged.

"James reckons you might be dying." Peter said it with fear in his voice. For a moment, Remus was touched that Peter cared about him enough to be afraid of him dying.

"I'm not dying. Believe me. It's..." Remus thought for a moment, trying to come up with a lie that wasn't too lie-like. "It's nothing much," he finally said. "I just get weak sometimes."

Remus was glad that Peter was not a suspicious sort. James or Sirius never would have accepted that answer. Remus decided he would have to come up with something over the summer to appease these infernal questions. He was quite sure they wouldn't stop, and there was only so long, "It's nothing serious" would appease the other two Marauders. Maybe his parents would have an idea.

Peter and Remus stared at one another a moment, neither one sure what to say to the other. "Want to play chess?" Peter finally asked. "I played Aunt Miriam a few times over the break, and I even beat her once. I think maybe I'm getting better."

"Sure, we can play chess," Remus agreed. Peter was not noticeably better, but Remus didn't tell him that. He even let him win a few times so he wouldn't be sad. Remus never had been able to bear the thought of anyone he cared about feeling sad.


	37. James: 30 June, 1972

James: 30 June, 1972

His glasses slid off his face. He tried to lift his head and keep them on, but gravity was one of only a few things that was stronger than James Potter's will. He snaked out a hand and plucked them from the air below his head. Down on the ground, Peter gasped and clapped.

"How did you do that?"

James shrugged as best he could while hanging upside down. "I don't know. I just did."

"You're definitely going to make the quidditch team next year."

James pulled himself upright and leaned against the trunk of the tree he and his friends had climbed. He shrugged. "Of course I am." Had there ever been any question about that?

"And you're going to be the star," Peter continued.

"What about me?" Sirius protested.

"You'll be the star, too," Peter said. He looked up at the Marauders, shielding his eyes from the sun. "I'm coming up." He grabbed a low branch and began hoisting himself up the tree.

"I thought you were afraid of climbing trees," James said.

"There can't be two stars," Sirius continued to protest.

"Why not?" Remus asked. "Scotland has two stars."

That was true enough, James supposed. They had the world's best seeker, and one of the best chasers, too. They were already favored to win the World Cup, even though it was still two years away. It was only too bad it would be in Patagonia. James would very much liked to have seen Scotland win. It had been nearly three hundred years since they'd even made it to the semi-finals, much less won.

James dropped back down, hanging from his knees. He did his best thinking upside down. His father said it was the head rush. "Remus is right," James decided. "We can both be stars. Besides, we won't be competing against each other. I'll be a chaser, and you'll be keeper, right?"

Sirius' only response was a sigh. "Do you ever wish you could just stop time and stay in a moment?"

"All the time," Remus said softly.

"Sometimes I wish I could go back in time," Peter said with a grunt as he pulled himself up onto James' branch. James reached up to grab it so he wouldn't fall with all of Peter's shaking. "Sorry," Peter muttered when James yelped and almost lost his balance. He shimmied over to an unoccupied branch as James pulled himself up. He'd suddenly lost his desire to hang from his knees.

"No worries," James said, but he tightened his grip on his branch all the same. "Where would you go to, if you could go back in time?"

Peter stared off into the distance, his eyes getting a faraway look. "I don't know. Back to before my mum got sick, I suppose. We were happy then."

Sirius shook his head. "I wouldn't want to be little again. Once was enough for me."

"So, then, what would you do, if you could control time?" Remus asked.

"I think I'd stay here."

"Here?" James repeated.

"Yes, right here. In the tree, spending the afternoon with my friends."

James leaned against the tree trunk. He had to admit that would have been nice. He didn't have a care in the world at the moment; all his exams had been taken and, he was quite sure, aced. The day was warm, almost hot, but here in the branches of a shade tree, with a lake breeze ruffling their hair, the Marauders were comfortably warm. The sunlight reflected on the lake, glittering in the ripples the light wind was leaving. The smell of honeysuckle wafted up to them with each gentle gust. They had just finished lunch a half hour before, and James still had that comfortable, full feeling that came from eating two bites too much. In a few hours, they would have their end of the year feast, and the Ravenclaws would be declared the winners of the House Cup. In the morning, they'd be boarding the Hogwarts' Express to go home.

"What about you, Remus?" Peter asked. "Where would you go?"

"I'd go back to when I was four. Before I..." Remus let the sentence hang for long moments. James was just about to ask him about it, when he began speaking again. "Once, when I was four, my parents had a party. It was summer, and my friends and I were catching fireflies. We put them in jars with little holes in the top. There were so many of them. Thousands, maybe millions, and we thought we could catch them all. That was the night I got sick. I stayed in St. Mungo's for nearly a week, and when I came home, they told me to go outside because the sunlight could make me stronger. I remember finding the jar with the fireflies still inside, right where I dropped it when I got sick. They were all dead, and I felt horrible for having killed so many beautiful things."

"It wasn't your fault," Sirius offered. "You didn't know you were going to get sick."

Remus nodded, but James could tell he didn't believe it. He turned away from the Marauders and leaned his back against the tree trunk, hugging his knees to his chest. "I opened the jar and dumped them all out, hoping one would still be alive, but none of them were. They just lay there in a little black clump; all their lights had gone out. I put a rock on top of them, so I wouldn't have to look at them. I didn't want to have to think about being sick, or about what I had done. If I could go back, I would go back to five minutes before I got sick, and break that jar and let them all go free. That's where I'd stay; where I could always be surrounded by fireflies."

No one spoke for a long while. James knew Remus was sick, but he hadn't put much thought into how difficult it must have been for him; a few times he'd even been jealous, wishing he could get out of class so easily. He supposed it was different when a person didn't have any choice but to miss.

He heard laughter from down below and saw Lily walking by with the Blondes, Gretchen among them. Lily was wearing an emerald green dress that James knew without looking was the exact same color as her eyes.

"Where would you go, James?" Sirius asked, shattering the silence.

"I don't know," James replied. He was usually happy living in whatever moment he was in. It occurred to him suddenly how very complicated all his friends' lives were, and how sad it was for all of them that they all had such regrets. James didn't think he would have changed anything, except perhaps to keep himself from getting into trouble sometimes. "Maybe I'd go back to when I first met Lily and make a better first impression on her."

"Your bad first impression wasn't really your doing, though," Sirius reminded him. "That was Snape's fault."

James shrugged. That was true, he supposed, but perhaps if he could do it over, he could keep his temper and not let Snape goad him.

As if on cue, Snape ran up to Lily. The Blondes all scowled at him; they hadn't forgiven him for getting the Marauders suspended, but Lily didn't seem to notice their ire. She threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Then again, maybe if he had it to do over again, James would hex Snape into oblivion before he ever made it onto the train and leave nothing but a grease spot on Platform 9 ¾. He was sure no one would miss him. James was amazed Lily could even stand to touch him, the greasy git.

James was proud of himself that he let Snape pass without hexing him. The Marauders had promised one another they'd wait until next term to put him in his place again, and James was determined to keep his promise. Still, the temptation was difficult to pass up. Snape probably wouldn't think to look in the trees.

The afternoon passed slowly. Usually James would have been bored, but today he was content to just sit talking with his friends. He almost found himself agreeing with Sirius and wishing he could freeze the moment, or slow it down, at the very least. The sooner the afternoon passed, the sooner they'd have to go upstairs and pack, and the sooner they'd have to say goodbye. Still, the sun drifted slowly toward the horizon, as was its wont, and the time came to go inside. Peter managed to climb down on his own this time, with much coaxing from the others, but the added annoyance was worth it when James saw the look of pride on his face.

He held his hands up victoriously in an imitation of Sirius' stance when he leapt down from a high branch, despite having climbed down to the lowest possible branch and then tumbled off of it to land on his back with a little "oof". The Marauders clapped for him anyway.

"That was good," Remus told him. "A little more practice and you'll be a tree-climbing expert."

Peter beamed at the word "expert".

The Marauders had just enough time to find a loo and wash their hands before it was time for the feast. The Great Hall was a mass of blue and bronze, and the Ravenclaw table was already loud and boisterous by the time the Marauders found seats. James felt happy for them, he supposed; at least it wasn't the Slytherins, in any event. According to Andromeda, they'd won the last three years in a row. It had been five whole years since the Gryffindors had won. They were a close second this year; only twenty points behind. When the Marauders heard that, they kicked themselves for breaking so many rules. If they'd only behaved themselves a little better, the Gryffindors would have won. They'd have to work on their technique next year, so as not to get caught quite so often.

James looked at Sirius and followed his gaze over to the Slytherin table. Andromeda gave him a little wave and a sad smile. Sirius was worried about her, James knew. She had decided to tell her parents about Ted Tonks. According to Sirius, they would not be happy, and he had been in the position of family whipping boy long enough to know how miserable it would be for her. He'd been trying to convince her to change her mind for days, but she said she loved Ted more than names or riches.

Sirius was worried about a lot of things, it seemed. He was worried about what Hogwarts would be like next year, without Andromeda to run interference between him and her sister Narcissa. He was worried about Regulus as always, but he seemed more worried since they'd last gone home. He wouldn't say much about it, only that their parents were getting to him. He was worried about spending the summer at home. James was worried about that as well; he didn't know what they had done to Sirius while he was at home being suspended, but he knew that whatever it was, it had been awful. Sirius had been having nightmares, though James didn't let on he know.

James had told Sirius he could spend as much of the summer as he wanted at Potter Manor, but so far he'd only committed to the camping trip in July. Part of James wished he could kidnap Sirius and force him to spend the whole summer at Potter Manor; another part of him didn't want to believe that Sirius was in any danger at all. It was still difficult for him to envision anyone hurting their own child the way Sirius said his parents hurt him, and it was even harder to imagine anyone hurting his friend.

The Marauders tucked in when the food appeared. Hogwarts feasts were a glorious thing, after all. And when Snape came over to gloat that Gryffindor had lost the house cup, James couldn't quite help the hex that changed his robes into a dowdy faded blue dress or his pointed wizard's hat to a straw boater with a stuffed tomato on the top. The look on his face when he realized he looked like an old muggle woman and the laughter that followed him out of the Great Hall was well worth the telling off he got from McGonagall.

When the feast was finished and the House Cup awarded to a very proud and very flustered-looking Flitwick, the Marauders made their way up to their dormitory for their last night of the term. They had already decided that they would spend the night out; it was only right, after all. There had been some initial disagreement over what they would do. Sirius wanted to sneak into the broom cupboards and play night quidditch; they'd never got around to doing that. Remus turned that idea down, claiming it was too risky and, besides, Peter hated quidditch.

James wanted to see what the Forbidden Forest was like at night, and maybe search for unicorns one last time, but Sirius decreed that too scary. He said his dad had told him there were trolls in the forest. James wasn't sure that was true, but Sirius put his foot down.

Peter wanted to sneak to Hogsmeade and try to get into the Shrieking Shack, but Remus said it was too haunted and that he had a strict rule not to mess with ghosts. James thought it a good policy and agreed with him. In the end, they decided to sneak up to the Astronomy Tower and see where inspiration took them from there.

It was a perfect night for stargazing. The moon was out, a semi-circle in the sky. Remus told them it would be full in seven days. James wondered briefly how he knew that when he'd always been terrible at Astronomy, but was quickly distracted by the twinkling of the stars. James was amazed by how many of them he knew. He'd never been able to make much sense of them before, but now he knew many of their names, and could point out their constellations. Some of it he had learned in Astronomy class, but mostly he had learned it by listening to Sirius.

"Look, a shooting star!" Sirius called. James followed Sirius' pointing finger just in time to see it streak across the sky.

"Make a wish," Sirius told his friends. They all closed their eyes. James wished to make the quidditch team next year. He was still quite confident he would, but he reckoned a little extra insurance never hurt anything.

James opened his eyes and continued staring at the sky, thinking of the shooting star. Then, suddenly, he had an idea. "You know what we should do?" James asked. "We should put on a fireworks show."

Remus shook his head. "It's too risky. We'll get caught."

"Come on, Remus," James said. "It's the last night. What can they possibly do to us?"

"Oh, I don't know," Remus replied sarcastically. "They could expel us."

"They're not going to expel us over fireworks," James said with a sigh.

"They could whack us," Remus went on.

Sirius shook his head that time. "They only whack us when we do stuff that could get someone hurt."

Remus raised one eyebrow, a look of purest incredulity on his face. "And you don't reckon fireworks count?"

"We'll set them off and then leave," James offered. "No one will ever know. We'll be long gone by the time they get up here."

"We don't have any fireworks," Remus noted, an air of triumph in his voice.

"We can get them from Filch. He has tons of them, remember? He keeps stealing them from the students," Peter said.

Sirius' eyes lit up. "Yeah, you're a genius, Pete. Let's go get those fireworks."

Remus didn't exactly agree, but he stopped protesting at least. He usually did once he realized it wouldn't do him any good anyway. The Marauders would put on a light show to remember. Maybe they'd even be the stuff of legend. James smiled as he threw the cloak over himself and his friends.

They were amazed by Filch's collection of fireworks. So many, the Marauders had to liberate a bucket apiece to carry them all. They also liberated a few other choice items. They all came away with a fanged frisbee, more dungbombs than they thought they could ever use, and enough banned sweets that they could have opened their own shop.

They decided to leave the fireworks and carry as many of Flich's objects as they could up to their own common room and leave them as a gift for the Gryffindors to find in the morning - their own form of penance for having cost their house the cup and a years' worth of bragging rights. Then they went back to get the fireworks at take them to the Astronomy tower.

Sirius was the one who worked out the best way to do it in the end; he disassembled most of the weaker fireworks to give the best ones long fuses, which the Marauders twisted and turned and connected together so that all they would have to do was light one fuse to see all the fireworks explode. It was tedious work, and it took them nearly two hours, but they didn't mind; they kept thinking about how wonderful their light show would be and how people would still be talking about it come September.

Once they were ready, Sirius did the honors. They others thought it only fair, since it had been his idea. They were nearly halfway down the stairs when they heard the first crash. When they got to their common room, they found that the entire house was up, staring out the window and grasping banned products in their hands as the light from the fireworks reflected off their faces. The Marauders slipped silently to their dormitory to change into their pajamas and join their housemates, ready to plaster innocent looks on their faces should McGonagall come.

The fireworks were the talk of breakfast. The Marauders joined in gushing about them. Even Peter never let on that they had been the ones to set them off. James wished he could have told. They'd never become legends if they couldn't claim their own feats of heroism, after all. But he didn't want to risk getting his friends into trouble, even if he was still convinced that no one would punish them for something they had done after the term had officially ended.

After breakfast, the Marauders packed slowly, still wishing to stretch out their time together, and James still had one piece of business to attend to.

Saying goodbye to Griselda's kittens was harder than James thought it would be. They were still so tiny, but Hagrid had assured him they were old enough to go to their new homes now. James was tempted to keep them all, but he didn't think his parents would take kindly to the news that they now had five more cats. He gave one to each of the Blondes, save Lily, who reminded him sadly that her sister was allergic.

"I wish I could take one, though," she said, scratching Gretchen's calico. He gave one to Dirk Cresswell, who had grown rather fond of them while James had been away. The final one, he gave to Gideon and Fabian Prewitt, who said they were planning to give it to their nephew when their sister wasn't looking.

"Can you imagine having uncles like them?" Sirius said with a shake of his head after they had left. Sirius and James were now alone in the common room, still putting off their last bit of packing. Everyone else was in the common room saying their goodbyes, and Remus and Peter had gone to the owlery to fetch Hester.

"That would be bloody brilliant!" James enthused.

Sirius gave a small smile. "Yeah, it would. Wouldn't it?"

"Sirius?"

"Hm?"

James wanted desperately to ask him to come to Potter Manor one more time, or to ask him what had happened when he was home. But he knew he couldn't do either, so he found himself looking around for something to say. "You've left Iago under your bed."

"Oh," Sirius said, crawling under his bed to fetch the dragon. "Thanks."

"It looks strange all empty like this, doesn't it?" James asked.

Sirius nodded. "It's probably finally clean enough for Michael."

Michael complained nearly constantly about the messes the other boys made in the dormitory. He had mostly given up trying to force cleanliness by the end of the year, and sometimes tidied things up himself if anyone's mess began to grow too far past his bed, which was often. The state of the bathroom had been a near-constant point of contention between Michael and the other boys. He was always complaining about the others not rinsing out the sinks and the showers. James could sort of see his point about the sinks, but who rinsed out a shower? There was nothing in there but soap and water, and soap was self-cleaning. That was the entire point of soap, really. The others mostly ignored him, but the nagging was uncomfortable all the same.

Sirius sat on his bed, the little dragon in his hand. "I don't want to go home," he muttered. He pulled the dragon close to his chest and squeezed it tightly, never taking his eyes off the floor.

James stopped trying to close his trunk. It was a lost cause anyway; he'd hardly been able to close it when he came and he'd been collecting things all year but hadn't got rid of any of his old things. He wondered if he could find a safe hiding place for his long underwear to stay over the summer. He wouldn't be needing it, he was quite sure. He went over to Sirius' bed and sat beside him, wishing he could be one of those people like his mum, who always knew what to say.

"You could come to Potter Manor," James offered.

"Not for the whole summer," Sirius replied bitterly.

"Most of it, maybe. Maybe you could go home for a few weeks and spend the rest of the summer with us. My parents would be happy. They really like you. They think you're a good influence on me."

Sirius snorted. James let out a little laugh himself. His parents didn't have a clue.

"I wish I could," Sirius said dully. "But my parents will want me home. We're having a graduation party for Andromeda in a few weeks, and wedding showers for Bella. It will look bad if I'm not there." He flopped back onto the bed. "Maybe it won't be so bad. Hopefully they'll be too busy to notice me much."

"Maybe," James agreed. He thought about Peter, always wishing his parents would pay more attention to him, and Sirius wishing his parents would pay less attention. He wished he could fly to London and punch the Blacks in the head, then fly to Cornwall and do the same for the Pettigrews. He just wanted his friends to be happy.

"Aren't you two ready yet?" Peter asked from the doorway. "The carriages leave in fifteen minutes."

Sirius sighed and sat up. He threw Iago into his trunk and kicked it shut. "Yeah, I'm ready," he murmured.

"I have too much stuff," James said. "My trunk won't close."

"Did you try folding things?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," James replied, trying not to sound annoyed. Sirius was always telling him to fold things; every time he complained about his robes being wrinkled or his wardrobe being full. Folding clothing was apparently Sirius' answer to everything. "I folded everything, and I threw all sorts of things away. It's hopeless."

Sirius went to the trunk and began taking things out. "Here, I've got a bit of extra space. I can take some of this. I'll bring everything to you next time I come over. Pete, do you have any space?"

"A little," Peter said timidly. "Only my trunk's down in the common room already."

"Then go get it," Sirius snapped. "Weren't you the one just saying we're almost out of time? And ask Remus if he has any space."

"Thanks, Siri," James said, and then he had a sudden thought. He dropped the scarf he was trying to stuff into an already-stuffed corner and looked up at Sirius, excitement dancing across his face. "What if we stayed here?"

Sirius looked at James as though he had gone mental. "Stay here?"

"Sure," James told him. "We could hide out somewhere until the carriages are gone and then stay at Hogwarts. That way, you wouldn't have to go home. The house elves would feed us, and we could hide under my cloak. Hagrid might even let us sleep in his hut. We can spend the whole summer searching for unicorns! It'll be brilliant!"

Sirius gave a little laugh. "Don't you think your parents will notice if you aren't on the platform this evening?"

James made a face. "Yeah, I suppose they will." He hadn't really thought about his parents.

"They'll be all worried about you. Your mum will probably cry."

"Oh," James cried. He didn't mean to make his mother cry.

"Besides, I'm sure Dumbledore would be able to find us, even with the cloak. Then we'd be in loads of trouble. My parents would probably lock me in the cellar every day for a month."

Sirius' eyes went wide when he realized what he had said. "Dammit, James!" he shouted with a stomp of his foot. James couldn't understand why Sirius would be cross with _him_ all of a sudden. It wasn't as though he'd done anything.

"What are you shouting at me for?"

"You can't tell anyone that," Sirius said, his eyes desperate.

James bit his lip, not wanting to tell Sirius that he'd already told. It hadn't really been that difficult to work out, after all. Mr. Black had practically bragged about it when the Marauders were in Grimmauld Place. Well, he wouldn't tell anyone else. Maybe that would be good enough? He shook his head. "I won't tell anyone."

Sirius' face softened. "Thanks, mate. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have shouted. Only I keep forgetting to be careful around you."

"That's not my fault," James muttered. He wished Sirius didn't feel he had to be careful around his best mate.

"I know," Sirius snapped. He closed his eyes a moment and sighed. When he opened them again, there was sorrow in his gaze. "I'm sorry. I really am. Only my father would be furious if anyone knew. He has his reputation and everything."

James nodded. He understood about reputations, he supposed. Although it seemed to him that if Mr. Black was so concerned that everyone think he was nice to his family, the best thing for him to do would be to actually be nice to his family. Then they wouldn't have to worry about lying all the time. The Blacks were far too confusing. James was awfully glad to be a Potter.

Peter and Remus reappeared just then with their trunks and began the work of repacking. Everything just fit and Peter even still had a little space. Sirius and James sat on James' trunk to force it closed, and they all levitated the things down the stairs before hopping into a horseless carriage together and beginning their journey home.

James was glad when they stepped off the train and saw his parents. It was silly to miss them so when he'd seen them only a few weeks before. And he was supposed to still be mad at them, he supposed, but he didn't much care. It was harder to stay mad at them when they were nearby. James hugged them both and looked around to say his final goodbyes to his friends. Not far away, Peter was hugging his father. The two of them left quickly, without a backward glance.

James caught sight of Lily with her family. A red-haired man and a blonde woman, along with an older girl James assumed must be Lily's sister. James immediately felt sorry for her. Both girls looked like a mix of their two parents, but Lily seemed to have inherited all the beautiful features while her sister had inherited the plain ones. Lily had her father's fiery hair and her mother's eyes. She had her father's huge, perfect smile and her mother's straight nose. Her sister, on the other hand, had her mother's weak blonde hair and her father's dull brown eyes. Her mother's toothy grin and her father's broad, flat nose. Neither parent was particularly handsome, but their features came together in such a way that their youngest was stunning and their eldest resembled a horse.

Lily's sister clearly didn't want to be here. She kept looking around and jumping at loud noises, as though she expected to be attacked at any moment. James resisted the urge to hex her for putting gum in Lily's hair at Christmas, but he couldn't quite resist the urge to throw a dungbomb in her direction when he was sure no one was looking. When it went off, she screamed and leapt clear to the other side of her father.

"Honestly, Petunia," Lily said with a small smile. "It's only a dungbomb. Boys set them off all the time."

James thought she might had glanced at him as she said it, but later he decided it must have been his imagination. The crowd began to thin near where the dungbomb had gone off and James lost track of the Evanses just after Petunia said, "It's just as I thought. Your lot haven't an ounce of civilization, have they?"

"Jamie, over here!" James heard his mother call.

He went over and found his parents standing with the Lupins. Remus was already there. "What took you so long?" he asked.

"I was just, erm, saying goodbye to Lily," James stuttered. In a manner of speaking, he supposed it was true. Saying hello to Lily's sister was probably closer to the truth.

After James had endured as much hugging and kissing as he could bear, he pulled away from his parents. His dad lifted his trunk. "Oof! What have you got in here, bricks?"

"Only a few," James deadpanned.

Harry smiled while Gwendolyn pulled him into another sideways hug. "My little comedian."

They had just said their goodbyes to the Lupins and were turning to leave when Mrs. Black, Sirius, and Regulus rushed toward them. "Harry! Gwendolyn! It's so lovely to see you both!" Mrs. Black said while Sirius hugged them both and moved to stand by James, as far away from his mother and his brother as he could. "I've been meaning to thank you for letting Sirius spend so much time at Potter Manor. It's been such a comfort to us knowing he's been so well cared-for."

"That means 'thanks for not making us deal with him'," Sirius whispered.

"We'll simply _have_ to return the favor some time soon. James simply _must _come stay with us this summer." James' heart dropped. He never wanted to go to Grimmauld Place again. The thought of spending one more moment in that house made his blood run cold.

"Oh, well that's very generous of you, Walburga," Harry said. "But we're quite busy this summer. I'm not sure there will be time."

James jerked his head up to his dad. He hadn't heard anything about being busy. Gwendolyn surreptitiously stepped on his toe, and James realized his father was lying. He'd have to file that away for a little leverage the next time he was in trouble.

Mrs. Black's smile wavered, and her eyes flashed, but she soon had her happy face painted on again. "That's really too bad. I just wouldn't feel right about Sirius coming to Potter Manor if we couldn't return the favor."

"That means if you don't come to Grimmauld Place, I can't come to Potter Manor," Sirius whispered.

It took only an an instant for James to put together the implications of that. "Dad, please, may I go?" James asked. "It would be loads of fun."

Harry eyed him a moment. James smiled and nodded. "Please?" he added once more for good measure.

Harry turned back to Mrs. Black. "We'll check our schedule and get back to you. Perhaps we could work out a visit for an afternoon."

"Perhaps," Mrs. Black replied, something icy in her tone. She recovered her smile once more. "Perhaps the three of you could come over for tea."

"Perhaps," Harry agreed. "We'll be in touch."

"Goodbye, Walburga," Gwendolyn added. She hugged Sirius once again, kissing the top of his head before he rushed off to join his mother and brother. As they walked away, Regulus slipped his hand into Mrs. Black's, but she shook him away.

"You ready to go?" Harry asked.

"May I please go to Grimmauld Place?" James asked again. Persistence was key, he had learned.

"Absolutely not," Harry replied. "We'll work something out with the Blacks so that Sirius can come visit us, but I do not want you in that house."

"But, Dad!" James begged.

"The answer is no, James, and I won't hear any more arguing about it."

James fell silent, recognizing the futility of continuing. For now, anyway. He'd keep working on them, he decided, sure they'd give in eventually. He could have happily gone the rest of his life without ever setting another foot in the Blacks' home, but Sirius had to be allowed to come to Potter Manor. He just had to. He couldn't spend all of his holidays stuck in that grim, old place while his family were mean to him. James was going to do whatever it took to make sure that didn't happen.


	38. Sirius: 14 July, 1972

Sirius: 14 July, 1972

Aside from his room and Reg's room, Sirius couldn't have said there was any part of Grimmauld Place he truly liked. The library, perhaps. There were certainly interesting books in there, but there were quite a few dangerous ones as well. And he always risked trouble when he went into the library. He and Reg had found an enchanted book in there once. Once they began reading, they were compelled to continue. Their mother found them two hours later, huddled together on the floor, obsessively flipping the pages. She rescued them and told them if she ever caught them in there again, she'd tell their father. Sirius didn't go in there often; it wasn't worth his while, really.

If he had to pick a favorite place, though, it would have been the courtyard. There had been flowers there once, though very few of them were left; Walburga wasn't much of a gardener. Reg and Sirius and their tutor kept a small patch of magical plants for study. In the middle of the courtyard was a fountain with two stone greyhounds, just like the ones in the Black family crest. One of them had dazzling emeralds for eyes, the other sparkling sapphires. Both had water coursing from their mouths into the basin below. It was filled with knuts and sickles, and even a few galleons from generations of Black children tossing in their wishes. Sirius and Regulus learned the hard way when they were six and four that the greyhounds would come to life and give chase if anyone attempted to retrieve the coins. Sirius and Regulus had only just managed to escape being mauled that day.

Today, however, Sirius was not enjoying being in the courtyard. He squirmed against the hard chair as the scissors snipped. A long string of hair fell across his shoulder and onto the ground. "Not too short, Mother," he warned.

"Be still," Walburga snapped. "You should be ashamed of yourself, letting your hair grow this long. You look ridiculous. Like a girl." She grabbed the hair on the top of his head and jerked it backward so that Sirius was forced to look up at her. "Are you a girl?" she demanded.

"No ma'am," Sirius croaked, his throat constricted by the angle of his head. She let go and he dropped his head, trying not to envision how awfully his mother must be mangling his hair. When she finished, she handed him a mirror and he looked, sighing when he saw how closely she had cropped it. Usually she let him keep it at least a little long because she thought his curls becoming. Today, she had sheared it so close to his scalp that skin actually showed through in a few places. He looked as though he'd caught the bad end of a severing charm.

He ran his hands across what was left of his hair, and it prickled his fingers.

"I said not too short, Mother!" he protested.

"It'll grow," she replied nonchalantly. Sirius looked sadly at all the hair on the cobblestones. Over the Easter holiday, Mrs. Potter had given James and him both haircuts on the veranda. Only she had listened to him when he told her how he wanted it. Afterward, they had gathered the hair and scattered it in the yard.

"The birds will use it to make their nests," she explained. "You just wait. In a few days, we'll see nests with black curls in them. And then the birds will sing more sweetly because they'll be so happy." She had tousled Sirius' hair, and he had stood right there in the middle of the yard and hugged her, laying his cheek on her shoulder. Then James came up and hugged her, too, and she put an arm around each of them and kissed them both. As they watched, a small bird flew down and pecked at the ground, flying away with hairs in her beak.

Sirius was sure he had imagined it, but a few days later he and James had indeed found a bird's nest while climbing trees and both of them were quite sure they saw black hairs amongst the twigs.

Today, Walburga vanished the hair with a wave of her wand. Sirius reckoned it didn't matter; all the birds' nests were probably built by now. Still, he liked the idea of helping the birds. He touched his hair experimentally once more. He wondered if he could sneak into the potions cabinet and get a hair-regrowing potion. He'd probably be in trouble if he did, and then his mother would just chop his hair off again, probably even shorter this time, if that were possible.

No, he'd just have to wait for it to grow back. Maybe he could sneak a potion onto the Hogwarts Express with him. If they got to the platform early and he was one of the first people on the train, he could have it grown out again before anyone important saw. He decided he liked that plan. Then he decided it was silly to care so much about hair. It he just left it alone, it would grow back on its own.

Sirius sat on the edge of the fountain and glanced at his reflection. He did look awfully silly half bald like that. Lesley would probably laugh at him, if she could see him. She loved his hair. She always said it wasn't fair that he got such lovely hair when he was a boy and didn't even need it. Sirius thought that a very strange thing to say. Being a boy had nothing to do with how bad a person needed hair; everyone needed hair. Otherwise, their heads would get cold.

Sirius ran his hands absently through the water. He was too old to believe the fountain could grant wishes now, but part of him wanted to throw in a knut anyway. Out of habit or whimsy, or perhaps just the desire to believe once more.

"Don't pout so, Sirius. It's only hair," Walburga snapped.

Sirius looked up at her. "I'm not pouting," he pouted.

"Go inside and do something useful with yourself."

Sirius went, dragging his feet. There wasn't much to do. As he passed by the parlor, he heard Regulus and his old tutor inside. Having French lessons, by the sound of it. Sirius poked his head in to say hello. He hadn't seen his tutor in nearly a year.

"Hello, Professor," Sirius said with a smile.

The tutor, David Bulstrode, looked up. He flashed a wide smile at Sirius and invited him in. Sirius went willingly. The Professor, as Sirius and Regulus referred to him, was wise and kind. According to Walburga, he was the best tutor in Britain, and the competition to hire him had been fierce. The Blacks had even hired him a year before Sirius would begin instruction, so desperate were they to have only the best for their boys. He had previously been employed with a branch of the Lestranges, but their youngest had gone off to Hogwarts and he had suddenly become available. Everyone wanted him, but he had chosen the Blacks, Orion and Walburga said, because they, too, were the best. Sirius suspected otherwise; he suspected that the Professor had chosen the Blacks because he knew that their children would need a little kindness in their lives, and no one else would provide it.

Sirius seated himself in a chair that the Professor conjured. It was squashy and comfortable and he bounced when he plopped down into it. Sirius smiled at Regulus. "All right, little brother?"

"I'm not that little," Regulus protested.

"But you'll always be my little brother," Sirius said with a grin. Regulus only scowled in return. He hated to be called little, and Sirius knew it. That was why he did it. He gave Reg a little playful shove. This time last year, Reg would have shoved him back, and it would have escalated into a competition with lots of wrestling and laughing and probably breaking things. Breaking things was one of their favorite pastimes, so long as their father wasn't around.

Today, however, Regulus only frowned and looked to the Professor for intervention.

"We were in the middle of our French lesson, Sirius. Would you care to join us?" the Professor asked, clearly hoping to head trouble off at the pass.

Sirius nodded. He had always enjoyed French.

"Bien," the Professor said. "Répétez, s'il vous plaît."

Regulus and Sirius diligently repeated the man's words.

The Professor smiled approvingly. "Very good, Sirius. I think you've improved at Hogwarts. How did you manage that?"

Sirius smiled back, reveling in the praise. He'd always wanted the Professor to be proud of him. "I have a friend who speaks French. We practice together sometimes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Regulus' frown deepen. "James Potter?" he asked.

Sirius turned slowly to regard his brother, wishing Reg wasn't holding a grudge against his best mate. It wasn't James' fault Walburga and Orion had refused to let him come home for Christmas. If their roles were reversed, Sirius would have been glad Reg didn't have to spend the holidays alone. "No. If you must know, James is hopeless with French. I've been practicing with Remus Lupin."

Reg said nothing, but his frown faded slightly. The Professor cleared his throat loudly. Both boys looked at him. "I don't know what this is about, but now is neither the time nor the place for it," he said sternly.

Regulus began to blush. "Sorry," he murmured.

"Sorry," Sirius added, although he hadn't done anything wrong.

The Professor moved on quickly. Sirius liked that about him. He wasn't above sternness or punishments, but he avoided it unless he had to, and he never carried things on further than they needed to go. Unlike Sirius' parents. And now Reg, apparently.

"Sirius, your pronunciation would be much better if you would roll your r's." Sirius fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was hopeless with French r's. He always had been. Remus had been trying to teach him, telling him how to hold his tongue to get the correct sound, but Sirius couldn't quite do it. "Try it again."

Sirius repeated the phrase once more, rocking side to side in his seat.

"What are you doing?" the Professor asked.

Sirius had to work not to smile. He pasted an innocent expression on his face. "You told me to roll my arse."

The Professor bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Regulus snorted. Sirius laughed. In a few moments, Sirius and Regulus were laughing loudly, and even the Professor was chuckling. "All right, boys. Let's settle down and get back to work," he said between chuckles, but Sirius and Regulus ignored him.

"You told me to roll my arse!" Regulus repeated.

Orion appeared at the door suddenly. "What is going on in here? Regulus Arcturus, are you being cheeky to your tutor?"

The smile left Reg's eyes before it faded from his lips. For a moment, his eyes were full of fear, but the grin was still on his face. Then it changed to a grimace.

"It was my fault, Father," Sirius said quickly. "I was faffing about, making him laugh."

Orion ignored him. He had eyes only for his youngest. Regulus shrank up small inside his robes as Orion approached. It didn't help.

"It was nothing, Orion. We were taking a break anyway," the Professor tried, but everyone in the room knew it would do no good. Once Orion had it in his head to hand out a beating, Merlin himself couldn't have stopped it.

"Father, please!" Sirius begged, haunted by the fear in his brother's eyes. "It wasn't Reg's fault. It was mine."

Orion said nothing. He grabbed Regulus by the shoulder of his robes and jerked him out of the room. Sirius looked at Professor Bulstrode and cried out, with panic in his voice. "Do something!"

The Professor closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly and sadly. "There's nothing I can do, Sirius. There was never anything I could do."

"Then what good are you?" Sirius shouted. He leapt from his chair and ran after his father. "Father, stop! It wasn't his fault! It was mine! Punish me!"

Orion marched Regulus up the stairs. This time last year, he'd have been crying and begging by now, but today he was silent, allowing himself to be led along, knowing full well what was coming. When they reached the second floor, Sirius grabbed his father's arm, hoping to snap him out of his silent rage. Orion shook him off. Sirius grabbed him again and held on until Orion knocked him to the floor. "You stay out of this," he growled.

"But, Father-"

"Just shut up, Sirius," Regulus yelled. His glared accusingly at Sirius. "You've done enough."

Orion cuffed him on the back of the head. "That's enough out of you." And they marched off. Sirius was on his feet again quickly, still trailing behind and begging his father to let Regulus go.

When they arrived in Reg's room, Orion turned to Sirius, his eyes fierce, and closed the door in his face. Sirius stood in the hallway, panic rising in his throat. Tears of rage stung his sinuses. He screamed in frustration and kicked the door, sure he was probably laying up trouble for himself but not caring. The sound of Regulus' punishment began on the other side of the door. Sirius clenched his fists, shaking in his anger. His fingernails dug painfully into the flesh of his palms. Regulus began to scream.

Sirius would go in there, he decided. He would pull Orion off his brother, and he would give him a taste of his own potion. He was sure Orion would make him pay for it, but he didn't care. He would protect Regulus. He had to. No one else would. He willed his legs to move, but they would not. Any moment now, he would reach out for the door. Hot tears made their way down his face as he listened to his brother cry. Any second now, he'd find the courage to go in.

The sounds on the other side of the door stopped as suddenly as they had begun. Sirius fled to his room and closed the door. He banged a fist against it, and then put the same fist in his mouth to keep himself from crying out as sobs threatened to force their way out of him. He was a coward, he knew. James would have defended Reg, if he were here. Remus certainly would have. Hell, even Peter probably would have been able to stop it. But Sirius couldn't. He was still too afraid. Too afraid to protect his little brother.

Across the hall, he heard the door slam, and his father's heavy footsteps faded away. Sirius gulped the tears away, thinking how odd it was that he could take a hundred beatings himself without a single tear, but when it was Reg's turn, he couldn't shut them off. Sirius opened the door and peeked out. When he was sure the coast was clear, he crept across to Reg's room. He took a moment to wipe his face with his sleeve before slipping inside.

Regulus lay in his bed, his head buried in his pillow. His hands gripped the sheets so tightly his knuckles were white. Sirius sat next to him and put a tentative hand on his shoulder.

Regulus stiffened, but gave no other sign that he had noticed. Sirius sat there with him, wishing he knew what to say, until Regulus had calmed.

"Go away," he whispered.

"What?" Sirius asked. For as long as he could remember, Sirius had done this, sitting with Regulus after he was punished. And never before had Regulus asked him to go away. Usually he had asked why their father hated them so much, and Sirius had hugged him and told him soothingly that he didn't, even though Sirius knew it wasn't true. Sometimes the truth wasn't important; he'd have said the sky was purple if it would make Reg feel better.

"Go away," Regulus hissed. He lifted his head and glared at Sirius. "This is all your fault. Just... just leave me alone!" He buried his head in the pillow as a fresh wave of grief overtook him.

"Regulus, I..." Sirius began.

"Just go away!" Regulus screamed.

Sirius felt his face contort in confusion as he yanked his hand off his brother's shoulder.

"Reg?" he tried again, but Regulus didn't answer. He replaced his hand on Reg's shoulder. Regulus jerked away. "Don't you understand?" he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I don't want you here."

Sirius backed away, stung. He left as quickly as he could without running, and crossed to his own room: his one haven in this place. He looked around at the green and silver decorations that he'd had for as long as he could remember. He'd never really liked them, but his parents had insisted he keep them. Suddenly, he couldn't stand them anymore. He couldn't stand anything anymore. He ripped the bedspread off his bed and tossed it on the floor of his closet.

His school trunk sat at the foot of his bed, mostly untouched. He rummaged around in it until he found a Gryffindor banner that James had given him. It was one of the many things James couldn't fit in his own trunk at the end of the year, and he'd said Sirius could keep it because he had four others. Nearly all his aunts and uncles had given them to him when he was sorted. Sirius had watched jealously as his family flooded him with red and gold. James' family were proud of him no matter what he did, and Sirius' family were not proud of him no matter what he did. The whole world wasn't fair.

Sirius sneaked down to the library. There was a Charms book in there somewhere that would have what he needed, he knew. He tiptoed to the Charms section and searched until he found a book that explained permanent sticking charms. Then he knocked a line of books off the shelf just to make himself feel better. He was tempted to knock every book in the place off, just to prove to his parents that he could.

Sirius stuffed the book under his robes and hurried back to his room. Reg's door was now cracked, and Sirius stared inside. Their mother and Kreacher both sat with him. Kreacher stroked his hair while his mother rubbed his back. Sirius' breath caught in his throat. Never once had his mother tried to comfort him when he was in trouble. She would tend to his wounds if it was necessary - usually none too gently - but she never sat with him like this.

"Of course it wasn't your fault," Walburga cooed. "Sirius set you up. He should have been the one to be caned."

"Kreacher is glad Master Regulus is beginning to see. Master Sirius was always nasty to Kreacher."

Sirius felt tears welling in his eyes once more.

"You mustn't blame yourself, Regulus," Walburga added. "Sirius has never had a proper feel for family."

"Do you think he loves us?" Regulus asked, his voice still thick with tears.

Walburga sighed loudly. "Yes, I think he does, in his way. The problem with Sirius is that he never loved anyone as much as he loves himself."

Sirius bit his lip to keep from charging in and telling them it wasn't true.

"He tried to help me, though," Regulus said with a sniffle. "He tried to make Father stop."

"He likes to play hero," Walburga said, her voice bitter. "He really is a perfect Gryffindor."

"You don't think he was trying to help me?" Regulus asked timidly. "He was only trying to play hero?"

Sirius left; he didn't need to hear any more. He stepped into his own room and shut the door as quietly as he could. He pulled the Charms book out of his robes and flipped it to the correct page. When he was sure he had the spell down, he chose a blank stretch of wall and pasted the Gryffindor banner there. He looked at his work, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment, as though he had somehow just reclaimed a little bit of his world.

Sirius dove back into his trunk, desperate to find something else - anything else - to remind him of Hogwarts. He opened his History of Magic book, which he has stuffed full of photographs. Photographs of the Marauders, the grounds, Dirk and Michael, the Blondes, his dormitory. Each photograph went on the wall by his door. Then he dove into the trunk again. This time, he came up with a picture of a motorbike. Dirk talked about the things often, and Sirius hadn't been able to envision what he might have meant. Finally, Dirk had produced a picture. A busty brunette sat astride the machine, a sultry look on her face.

When he first saw the picture, he had prodded it, trying to get the woman to move, but Dirk had explained that muggle pictures don't move.

"They just sit there?" Sirius had asked.

Dirk nodded.

Sirius couldn't get his mind around that. "But don't they get bored?"

"Bored?" Dirk had repeated. "They're pictures. Of course they don't get bored."

Sirius walked away, feeling sorry for the brunette. Nothing to do for all eternity but sit frozen and half naked on that motorbike.

Sirius stuck that picture on the wall next to his bed. He continued his work slowly, sticking up the painting Remus had given him for Christmas, tying his Gryffindor tie to his bedpost. He even unearthed the pillowcase on which he'd drawn their mascot. He added a red and gold background just for good measure and stuck it to the ceiling.

Sirius looked around the room at his handiwork. It wasn't perfect; indeed it looked barer than it had before, but at least all the Slytherin decorations were gone. Perhaps the next time he went to Diagon Alley he'd sneak away and buy some more things with his own money, and perhaps he could convince Mrs. Potter to make him a quilt like the one she'd made for James.

Sirius fought the urge to write to James, asking if he could come to Potter Manor. His parents wouldn't allow it, he knew. Not unless the Potters gave them the opportunity to prove themselves better hosts. Sirius didn't want James coming here again, but he didn't want to have to stay away from Potter Manor, either. He sighed and flopped onto his bed. Why did his parents have to make everything so damn complicated? Why couldn't they just leave him alone and let him be happy? It would have been much easier on them, really.

Sirius heard footsteps and voices in the hallway, and he tiptoed to his door to listen. "Professor Bulstrode is waiting for you," Walburga's voice said. "If Sirius comes around again, tell him I said he isn't to disturb your lessons any more, and if he won't leave, come tell me, and I'll have your father take care of it."

Sirius winced. It didn't take a genius to work out what that meant. He decided to stay in his room until in was time for tea. Instead, a moment later, his door flew open and he found himself nose to nose with his mother.

"Are you happy now?" she sneered. "You got your brother into trouble."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Sirius said, feeling three inches tall. He'd tried to tell Orion it was his fault. He truly had, but what could he do about it if Orion never listened?

"Of course you didn't," Walburga said nastily. "You never do anything on purpose, do you? It's only coincidence that you ruin everything you touch."

"I do not!" Sirius insisted. "I don't ruin anything."

"You ruin everything," Walburga spat. She looked around the room a moment, her eyes alighting on his new decorations. "You've even ruined your own room." Walburga went to the pictures of his freinds. "Who are these people?"

"The Marauders. The same ones who came here last month." Sirius backed slowly toward his desk and grabbed the Charms book while his mother was distracted. It wouldn't do for her to know he'd been in the library without permission. He hid it under his pillow.

Walburga tried to pull a picture off the wall. Sirius held his breath, waiting for a ripping sound that never came. His spell held. After casting a series of spells, Walburga rounded on him. "Did you use a permanent sticking charm on these?"

Sirius held his head up high and nodded. His mother slapped him. It hardly hurt, but the surprise of it shocked him. His mother had never struck him before. She pulled him over to look at the pictures, forcing his face so close to them that they were blurry in his vision. "These people are not your family, Sirius! These people will not help you when things are tough. You never did care about family, did you?"

"James will," Sirius whispered.

"What was that?" Walburga asked, her voice dangerous.

"James will help me. He helped me at Christmas when you wouldn't let me come home. He helped me last month, when you were letting Father lock me in the cellar."

Walburga let Sirius go suddenly, her eyes wild. Sirius backed away, hoping to get some distance in case she decided to slap him again. Then her face softened. Her eyes were sad. Tears glittered under her lashes. "You get such joy out of hurting me, don't you?"

Shame rushed into Sirius' soul. He never should have said that to his mother. "No, Mother. I don't. I love you!"

One tear fell down Walburga's cheek. "You don't love me. You don't love anyone but yourself. I'm ashamed of you."

Before Sirius could say another word, Walburga strode from the room, slamming the door behind her. Sirius stood in the middle of the room, fighting twin waves of fury and devastation and wishing with all his heart he could be back at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Sirius couldn't bear to be in that room a second longer. He stormed down the stairs. When he passed the parlor, he paused. Reg and the Professor were working on Transfiguration now. Part of Sirius wanted to barge in and disturb the lesson just to see if Regulus would really tell on him. Another part of him wanted to stage a sit-in until Regulus forgave him for whatever it was he was still so angry about. The last two weeks had been far too chilly for Sirius, now that the only bright spot in Grimmauld Place had been taken away from him. The part of him that wanted the path of least resistance won out in the end, and he walked by, still kicking himself for being such a colossal coward.

He made his way out to the courtyard and sniffed the London air. Nowhere else smelled like London. He walked past the fountain and its gentle tinkling waters and stepped to the edge of the protective enchantments. He'd learned well where the lines were over the years. Just to the other side, he could see a muggle street, with people scurrying past. None of them could see him, he knew. All they could see was the dirty brick wall of an abandoned building. Sirius scuffed his toe toward the edge of the wards, thinking how surprised the muggles would be when he just appeared there.

Maybe he could run away, he thought to himself. Maybe he could move in with the Potters permanently. Probably not, he told himself. The Potters would probably send him back. Maybe he could move in with Peter. He was always saying his parents were too busy to notice him, so maybe they wouldn't notice Sirius either. He decided against that as well. Peter would probably panic and run off to tell the Minister of Magic herself if Sirius were to try to stay with him.

Sirius stood there, trying to think. In the end, he did nothing. Just like when Regulus was being punished. He stood there like a coward, and did nothing. His stomach gave a melancholy growl, and he turned back toward the house, knowing he'd never find the courage to leave. The hat had erred when it made him a Gryffindor; he had no bravery. He was a coward. A coward who ruined everything he touched.

The smell of cottage pie hit him when he walked through the door, and he wandered to the parlor. It was empty now; Reg's lessons had ended for the day. He played a few notes on the piano, wishing it could be time for tea so that he would have something to do. Maybe having James over would work out well. James would cheer him up, at the very least. And he and Reg would both be safe while James was here; even Orion wouldn't lose his temper in front of a guest.

Sirius wandered again, this time his legs taking him up the stairs and into Reg's room. It was empty. He went to his own room and found Reg sitting on his bed.

"Hey," Reg said. "The door was open. I hope you don't mind."

"Nah, I don't mind," Sirius replied. He stayed close to the door, not sure what to say to his brother. "Listen, about this afternoon. I really didn't mean to get you into trouble. I'm sorry."

Regulus shrugged. "It wasn't so bad. Certainly not his best work."

"Do you need a bruise salve?"

Regulus shook his head. "Mother gave me one. And a pain potion. I'm fine, really."

"Oh." Walburga never gave Sirius salves or potions unless he was going somewhere and she was afraid someone might find out. He wished he could tell Reg that he'd overheard what their mother had said to him, and that it wasn't true. That he did love them. All of them. Even Orion. Sometimes he hated that it should be so, but it was.

Regulus looked around the room. "Interesting what you've done with the place. Why is there a naked woman on the wall? And why won't she move? I'd like to get a better view. You can hardly see anything good from the side like that. Her arm's in the way."

Sirius explained about muggle pictures.

"That doesn't make any sense," Regulus said. "Why can't they move?"

"I don't understand it either."

"Muggles are mental."

"They're not so bad, really. There are two muggleborns living in my dormitory, and they're both nice. And talented. Honestly, they're more talented than some of the half-bloods and purebloods at the school."

Regulus nodded, not taking his eyes off the woman on the motorbike.

"Tell me something else about Hogwarts," Regulus ordered.

"Well, the kitchens are down in the dungeons. There's a picture of a bowl of fruit, and you tickle the pear to get in. The house elves love it when students come to visit. They'll give you anything you want. James convinced them to give us an entire chocolate cake once." Sirius smiled at the memory.

Regulus frowned. "Can't you ever talk about anything besides James?"

"Sure I can. I can talk about quidditch or Potions or girls. There's a girl at school named Lesley that I've been going out with. She's gorgeous."

"Is she a pureblood?"

"Half. Her grandparents on her dad's side were both muggle-born."

"Oh," Regulus said. Sirius thought he heard judgment in his voice. Sirius couldn't do much about that. He hoped that when Reg got to Hogwarts he'd see that blood status didn't matter nearly as much as their parents said it did.

"Do you want to play gobstones or something?" Sirius asked, grasping for anything to break the tension.

Regulus shrugged. "Sure, if you want. I've gotten really good at chess, too. Mother's been helping me. I reckon maybe I could beat you."

"You think so, do you?" Sirius asked. Sirius had just had time to set up the board when Orion called them downstairs to eat.

"Race you!" Sirius said, taking off running. Regulus ran along behind, protesting loudly. They both stopped just outside the dining room and came in calmly. Sirius elbowed Regulus. Regulus elbowed Sirius back. Sirius smiled, hoping this meant things could bo back to normal between them. They spent most of the meal kicking one another under the table until Orion asked them what they were giggling about and told them they had better stop it. Sirius wondered why he cared, or if the sound of someone being happy really was so abhorrent to him. Perhaps that was it, Sirius decided. Perhaps Orion didn't want the people around him to be happy. Sirius winked at Regulus and buried himself in his cottage pie. Regulus winked back and did the same.

After they had finished their meal, Sirius and Regulus ambled up the stairs and returned to their game. "I do love you, you know," Sirius said suddenly as Regulus moved his first pawn.

Regulus looked up, anxiety behind his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "It's your move."

Sirius studied the board for a moment, and moved his pawn forward.

"I love you, too, Sirius," Regulus said. Sirius looked at him; their silver eyes met.

"I know," Sirius said softly. "It's your move."

They spoke very little after that, but the game continued late into the night.


	39. Peter: 22 July, 1972

Peter: 22 July, 1972

Travel by floo always made Peter dizzy. The Potter's living room continued to spin for a few moments after Peter landed safely in the fireplace. He stepped out quickly, tracking soot onto the carpet, to avoid his aunt coming in behind him and landing on top of him. He closed his eyes a moment and put a hand against the mantel to steady himself. James was already upon him by the time he opened them.

"Peter! You're the first one here! Come upstairs. I'll show you the tent!"

Peter wasn't particularly interested in seeing the tent, but James' excitement overflowed and Peter caught a little of it. James grabbed his hand and began pulling him up the stairs, and Peter allowed himself to be tugged along. The camping equipment was in James' room, piled neatly in a corner.

"Watch this," James ordered and picked up a small, gray bundle. He tossed it into the air and it popped open, landing perfectly in the center of the floor. It was tiny - barely large enough for two men to lie down in.

"Well?" James asked, glowing. "What do you think? It's new. We bought it just for this trip. That's the one we're going to stay in. My dad will stay in our old one, but it isn't nearly so nice as this one. Can you believe it? The Marauders get to stay in our very own tent. And it wasn't even difficult to talk my dad into it."

"How will we all fit?" Peter asked, regarding the little tent skeptically.

James' eyes lit up. "Go inside and see!"

Peter gave James his best, "You're mental!" look, but James only pushed him inside.

"There! You see!" James said triumphantly. Peter looked around the tent, his eyes widening. There were three large rooms - a living room with comfy-looking armchairs and a fireplace, a bedroom with two sets of bunk beds pushed against the walls, and a kitchen complete with an icebox, an oven, and pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. There was even a little table for four set with dishes and silverware, and a bathroom with a working toilet.

"This is brilliant!" Peter cried. "Can we bring it back to Hogwarts and stay in it instead of the dormitory?"

James laughed. "That would be wicked! But I don't think McGonagall would like it."

"Who cares what McGonagall likes?" Peter muttered, but James had already moved on, collapsing the tent with a wave of his wand.

"Don't tell my parents I did that," James ordered. "Technically, I'm not supposed to have my wand at all. They took it away the second day I was at home because I wouldn't stop using it, but I think the underage magic law is silly, don't you? I mean, why give us wands and teach us spells and then tell us we can't do them two months out of the year? So I took it back." James winked.

It briefly crossed Peter's mind to use this secret it as blackmail, but he found himself nodding and saying, "I won't tell." Marauders did have to stick together, after all... and James, forgiving as he was, had ways of getting even when people crossed him. The memory of Snape streaking through the Great Hall was still fresh in Peter's mind.

"Jamie!" Mrs. Potter's voice floated up the stairs. "Sirius is here."

James lit up again before running out the door. Peter ran after James, trying in vain to keep up.

Sirius and his mother stood stiffly in the parlor. Mrs. Black scared Peter slightly, but he thought her very beautiful in a fallen angel sort of way. She wore satin robes of deep purple that hung on her more perfectly than Peter had ever seen robes hang on a person - as though they had been made for her. She wore a frown across her delicate features. Peter imagined a certain sadness about her that tugged at his heartstrings. Today he even thought for a moment that he could see glimmers of her hopes and dreams hiding behind her cold, quicksilver eyes. Where Mr. Black was terrifying, Mrs. Black was merely tragic. At least, Peter liked to think so. He was sure that no one so beautiful could be as awful as Sirius made her out to be; Sirius was probably judging her too harshly, just like he so often did with Peter.

"Goodbye, Mother," Sirius said pointedly after she had been in conversation with the Potters for a few moments. She turned to scowl at him, but said nothing. Peter wanted to tell Sirius to treat his mother with respect, because he'd be awfully sorry if something happened to her, but he didn't. He never did say anything when he disagreed with Sirius. And why? It was silly, really. What could Sirius do to him here with his mother and the Potters all watching.

"You shouldn't talk to your mother like that, Sirius." Peter heard the words coming out of his mouth as though someone else had spoken them. Everyone in the room turned to look at Peter, who found himself wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. He felt his face grow hot and had the sudden urge to pull his robes over his head just so everyone would stop looking at him.

Mrs. Black smiled at Peter, and Peter found himself smiling back. Her eyes didn't seem so cold today. In fact, they seemed full of kindness and warmth. Perhaps Peter had judged her too harshly as well, that day in Grimmauld Place. Perhaps he'd been so frightened by the surroundings that his imagination put the harshness in her eyes, and the sneer on her face.

"You're sweet," Mrs. Black said. Peter blushed so deeply his skin felt hot and tight. "Perhaps your manners will rub off on my son." She looked at Sirius pointedly and gripped his shoulder. A glimmer of pain shot across his face, but was gone in an instance. "Behave yourself, Sirius." She let go with a little push and Sirius staggered backward a step. Then she turned to the floo and disappeared in a flash of green flame. Peter was sorry to see her go.

Sirius hugged Mr. and Mrs. Potter. "I love your haircut," Mrs. Potter said with a smile as she kissed the top of his head. "You look so dashing."

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, or what was left of it. He had just enough time to say, "Thanks, Mrs. Potter," before James swooped in and pulled him upstairs to show off the tent. The brushed by Peter, and Peter stood awkwardly on the stairs for a moment, wishing he knew something to say to James' parents. After a silence that seemed to him to last a lifetime, he turned and rushed to James' room.

By the time he got there, James had the tent already set up. "Wicked!" Sirius exclaimed. "I've never been camping. I can't really imagine my parents sleeping in a tent."

James shook his head. "Definitely not."

"Regulus might like it," Sirius offered.

"Maybe he can come next year?" James suggested.

Sirius frowned. "Yeah, maybe."

"Go look inside," James ordered.

Sirius lifted the flap and went in. "Brilliant!" he called, his voice muffled through the canvas walls.

"James!" Mr. Potter yelled. "Remus is here!"

James pushed past Peter and ran down to collect Remus. Peter was sure they'd both be up in a matter of moments, so he didn't bother to follow him. Instead, he went in the tent and found Sirius lounging on one of the top bunks.

Peter was suddenly struck by a very important idea. "I bagsy the top bunk!"

Sirius lifted his head to give him a look of disgust. "Don't you think we should wait until everyone gets here and then decide who sleeps where?"

Peter scowled. He knew what that meant. That meant that Sirius and James would decide together who was sleeping where, and Remus and Peter would be stuck with whatever was left.

"No," Peter protested. "I bagsied it. It's mine." He quickly clambered up a little ladder and deposited himself on the other top bunk, determined to stay there until Sirius agreed to let him have it.

But at that moment, he heard James, Remus, and Mr. Potter approaching. Like Sirius and Peter before him, Remus lifted the flap and came into the tent, his face stretching into a huge grin as he looked around. "This is the best tent I've ever seen!"

"It is quite impressive, isn't it?" Mr. Potter said. "I especially like that way it assembled itself, as I know my sweet, darling, obedient son would _never_ do illegal underage magic after he's been told not to."

"Never," James agreed innocently as Mr. Potter pulled him into a side-armed hug.

"What am I going to do with you?" he said with a small smile. James leaned into him slightly, soaking up the affection.

"I bagsy the top bunk!" Peter called again, hoping that James or Remus or maybe even Mr. Potter would force Sirius to play by the rules.

Sirius lifted himself up on his elbows and glared at Peter. "We get it already! Now would you please shut up?"

"Sirius," Mr. Potter said lightly, and Sirius sighed.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter," he mumbled.

"I don't think I'm the one you should be apologizing to, son."

Sirius looked at Peter, his eyes narrowed angrily in a way that clearly said he wasn't the slightest bit sorry. "Sorry, Pete."

In the end, none of it mattered. Sirius and James decided they should play fire, water, broomstick to determine who should get the top bunk. Remus declared he wanted a bottom bunk anyway and claimed one, letting the others duke it out. In the first round, Peter threw broomstick, and James and Sirius both threw fire. Peter insisted on playing best two out of three; then he threw water and they both threw broomstick. He was just opening his mouth to call for best of seven when Sirius said, "Face it, Worm Guts, you lost," and threw his rucksack onto a top bunk.

"That's really not fair, though," Remus said softly from his bunk. "Peter bagsied the top bunk."

"But he lost at fire, water, broomstick," Sirius insisted.

"But he bagsied it," Remus persisted. "He gets it. Those are the rules."

"Fine," James said, glaring at Peter as though he were the one who had done something wrong. "If it means so damn much to you, I'll sleep on the bottom bunk."

"If he's sleeping on the bottom bunk, so am I," Sirius declared. Remus made a little noise of frustration that Sirius either didn't hear or chose to ignore. Peter guessed probably the latter. "Bottom bunks are better anyway. You won't have to climb the ladder if you need to piss in the middle of the night."

Peter looked up the ladder. It did seem it would be an awful hassle to have to climb down that ladder in the dark just to visit the loo, and he nearly always had to visit the loo at least once during the night.

"Well, maybe sleeping on the bottom wouldn't be so bad."

Sirius crossed his arms huffily. "Would you make up your mind already? We can't wait all day just for you to decide where you'd like to sleep."

"Yeah, we're on pins and needles here, mate," James replied acidly.

Peter's stomach tied up in knots. He didn't like this turn of events. "Stop picking on me!" he cried.

"Who's picking on you?" Sirius asked. "We're all trying to give you what you want. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know."

"Would you two just stop it!" Remus barked, coming out of his bunk. "Peter, you take the top bunk if you want it. I'll move to a top bunk, and you two can have the bottom ones. I don't care." He waved a finger in Sirius' face. Peter stopped short, all his distress disappearing into surprise. He was sure no one, save perhaps McGonagall, had ever dared wave a finger in Sirius Black's face. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You shouldn't be fighting over something as silly as a bunk anyway. Why can't you ever just let Peter be happy?"

Sirius' mouth fell open. He closed it, and it fell open again as he tried to think of a response. "Do whatever you want, then. All of you. I don't care. I'll sleep in whichever bunk is free." And with that, he grabbed his bag from the top bunk, tossed it angrily into a corner, and stomped out of the tent. Peter used the opportunity to scramble up the ladder and claim the same bunk that had so recently been Sirius'.

James stared at the tent flap for the longest time, a look of purest confusion on his face. "Blimey," he finally said. "What do you reckon got into him?"

"He's probably going to tell your dad on us or something," Peter groused. It's what he'd have done, after all.

"Nah, I doubt it," James replied. "Have you ever known Sirius to tell an adult anything he didn't have to?" He shrugged. "He always runs off to be alone when he's upset. He'll come back soon. And maybe we should switch bunks on Wednesday. That way, everyone can have a top bunk for part of the week."

Peter didn't like that idea, now that he'd finally managed to secure his preferred sleeping arrangements, but Remus, ever the negotiator, latched onto it.

Peter turned on him. "Why do you have to be such a Pollyanna all the time?" he accused.

"Oi!" James called. "Don't yell at him. He hasn't done anything!"

"Oh, sod off!" Peter replied, and he flopped down on his pillow, turning his face toward the wall. Someone began to sniffle; probably Remus, but Peter didn't care. They were all so awful to him. Sometimes he didn't know why he was even friends with them anyway. Maybe he wouldn't be anymore. He could find plenty of other friends, he was sure. Friends who would appreciate him. He heard someone leave and turned, hoping it had been James. It wasn't. James was still there, glaring at him. He stuck out his tongue and turned back toward the wall. A moment later, something hard hit him in the back of the head, and he sat up, rubbing the spot that had been hit. A quick look around told him that the object had been James' boot. He felt tears coming to his eyes as the pain continued to erupt. He tried to will them away, holding his breath, but eventually he had to breathe, and a sob came with it.

"I'm going home," he cried, climbing down from the bunk with his bag. He expected James to apologize. He expected him to beg him to stay. He expected him to say he wanted him around and that the trip wouldn't be the same without him. He didn't expect what James actually said.

"Fine!" James said, his face hard. "We'll have more fun without you anyway, Mr. I-don't-care-who-I-upset-so-long-as-I-get-the-top-bunk. Don't let the flap hit you in the arse on the way out."

Peter hated that James was seeing his tears, and he hated even more that his words stung so much a fresh wave of them began. He shuffled out the door, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and ran straight into Mr. Potter. "I w-want to g-go h-home," he stuttered as he tried to catch his breath.

"You, too?" Mr. Potter said with a sigh. "What are you boys doing to one another in there?"

"James th-threw his b-boot at me," Peter said, trying to force himself to calm.

Mr. Potter sighed again. "Jamie," he muttered with a shake of his head. He looked at Peter. "Are you hurt?"

Peter nodded. "He hit me in the head." He pointed to the spot. He could feel it prickling as a lump rose up. Mr. Potter's hands were gentle as he brushed Peter's hair away. A moment later, the pain all but disappeared as Mr. Potter whispered a spell. "There. That should take care of it."

Peter nodded, blinking back the last of his tears. Mr. Potter put a hand on his shoulder. "Now, let's go get to the bottom of all this trouble." And with that, Peter found himself being steered into the tent.

James and Remus sat on their respective bottom bunks, both looking miserable. When they entered, James leapt to his feet. "You told on me!"

"No, as a matter of fact, he didn't," Mr. Potter replied, for which Peter was endlessly grateful. "It didn't take much to figure out something was wrong when one of your friends storms out and another runs out crying."

"I wasn't crying," Peter corrected, wiping a stray tear away from his face.

"You blubbered like a baby!" James accused.

"You threw a shoe at my head!"

"That's enough!" Mr. Potter bellowed. "Now someone needs to tell me right now what all this is about."

James grudgingly told the whole story, though his version of events differed somewhat from the way Peter remembered things. He spoke up to correct him only once and was silenced by a glare and a threateningly-raised clenched fist from James that Mr. Potter conveniently didn't notice, as his attentions were on Peter at the time.

Mr. Potter listened intently to the tale until the point where James got to the shoe-throwing, and then said, "Well, this problem is easily solved." With a wave of his wand, the ladders vanished, and a moment later the two top bunks were floating to the floor, where they landed between the two bottom bunks. "There. Now no one has a top bunk."

"No, Dad!" James protested. "We worked it out. Peter and Sirius are going to get the top bunks until Wednesday, and then we're going to switch."

"And everyone's agreed to that, have they?" Mr. Potter asked.

"I didn't agree," Peter said bitterly.

James clenched his jaw. "If you're going to be like that, maybe you _should _go home," he spat.

"That's enough, James!" Mr. Potter scolded. "No one is going home. You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. All of you. You're best mates, and here you are fighting over something as silly as who sleeps where?"

"But it's not about that, Dad," James said, stomping his foot in frustration. "Peter always has to have his way, and he throws a tantrum when he doesn't get it, so we always end up giving him whatever he wants. It isn't fair."

"I do not!" Peter cried.

"Enough!" Mr. Potter bellowed. "This stops now. If you can't work out how to get along, then maybe we should all go home."

"But I haven't done anything!" Remus cried. Peter had almost forgotten about him.

Mr. Potter smiled encouragingly at him. "I know you haven't. And I appreciate that. Perhaps you, Sirius, and I should stay, and we'll send these two miscreants home."

Remus shook his head. "No, I don't want you to. I want them to stay!"

Mr. Potter held up a hand apologetically. "I was joking, Remus. I'm not really going to send anyone home, especially not over a little scuffle." He turned back to James and Peter. "It had better stop now, though. I want you both to apologize."

Mr. Potter waited. No one moved. "Now!" he ordered.

"Sorry, Pete," James muttered, not looking sorry in the slightest.

"Sorry, Jamie," Peter muttered back, hoping that it bothered James to be called "Jamie" as much as it bothered Peter to be called "Pete". It didn't seem to bother him much when his parents did it, or Sirius, but no one else appeared to be allowed.

"Now, shake hands," Mr. Potter told them. James closed half of the gap between them reluctantly and stood expectantly in the middle of the bedroom.

"Go on," Mr. Potter said, giving Peter a little push forward. Peter went, holding a hand out for James, who took it and shook it, squeezing painfully. Peter tried to squeeze back, but couldn't get his grip around James' hand. Then he tried to let go, but James held him.

"Friends again?" James said with a small smile. There was a slightly malevolent glitter in his eyes as he squeezed a little harder.

Peter nodded, trying not to show that James was hurting him. James let go suddenly, and Peter stuffed his hand into his pocket, glad that the sudden pressure was gone. He'd never realized James was so strong.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Mr. Potter asked, smiling. Peter shook his head sullenly, overwhelmed by a sudden urge to kick James in the shin and damn the consequences.

"I'm going to go check on Sirius!" James announced, cheerful once again, before charging out of the tent.

"You two should come out as well," Mr. Potter said. "We didn't come all this way to hang around in the tent!"

"I'll be out in a moment," Remus said softly.

"Suit yourself," Mr. Potter agreed. He threw an arm around Peter's shoulder. "You'll come out with me, won't you, lad?"

Not sure what else to do, Peter nodded and allowed himself to be led outside. They'd camped in a beautiful little glen next to a pristine lake. The water was so blue Peter could hardly stand it - as though it had been dyed. There was a river in his little town in Cornwall, but the water in it was muddy and brown, and the sea was always grayish-green, but this was the most beautiful water he'd ever seen. Mr. Potter said perhaps they could go swimming a little later, once they had camp set up, but Peter was almost afraid to go in; he didn't want to disturb something so beautiful.

James and Sirius sat shoulder to shoulder on a little rock outcropping, dangling their toes in the water and skipping rocks. The silence and birdsong of the forest was punctuated by their laughter, and Peter suddenly felt very lonely. He wished he could be the person who knew how to cheer Sirius up, or the one who could draw James out of a fit of temper, or the one who could make Remus smile when his inexplicable sadnesses struck him. But he couldn't do any of those things. He was just Peter. Maybe he'd run away; stay here in the forest and live in a tree house. Make friends with the birds and the deer, like in fairy stories.

"Want to help me build a fire?" Mr. Potter's voice pulled Peter out of his reverie so quickly it was nearly startling.

"Sure," Peter agreed. "What do I need to do?"

Mr. Potter showed Peter how to find kindling and sent him off into the forest to search for some. He was glad to have something to do - especially something that Mr. Potter said would be helpful. Peter liked Mr. Potter very much, and wanted Mr. Potter to like him back, though he wasn't entirely sure why. It just seemed that whenever the man was around, Peter felt important all of a sudden. Mrs. Potter made him feel the same way. He found himself wanting to do things that would make her smile just... because. He beamed proudly when he brought back the kindling and Mr. Potter told him it was perfect. By then, the others were all down at the lake. James was floating leisurely on the water, and Sirius was splashing at Remus, who sat on the shore still fully dressed.

"I wouldn't have put you to work if I'd known they were going to start swimming so soon." Mr. Potter winked. "Go on. They'll be glad to have you join them. Remus has been asking where you got off to."

Peter ran to the tent to get his swimming suit, heartened by the fact that he had been missed. He changed as quickly as he could, and then charged down to the lake. Remus was in the water now, too, having a splashing war with Sirius. James looked as though he were trying to swim clear to the other side of the lake.

"James, don't go so far out," Mr. Potter called, and James started back toward shore. Peter briefly wondered if Mr. Potter realized how miraculous it was that James listened to him so often. He certainly didn't listen to anyone else. Except Sirius.

"Peter!" Remus cried when he saw Peter coming. "We were worried about you!"

"I wasn't," James said harshly, floating on his back and spitting a stream of water into the air.

"Sirius and I were. Until Mr. Potter told us you were getting firewood. Did you get lots?"

Peter nodded proudly. Sure it had been kindling, not proper firewood , but he had still managed to collect quite a lot of it. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun and watched Remus watching James and Sirius. "Are you going to come in?"

Remus nodded. "I'll go in soon. For now, I'm enjoying just sitting in the sun." He lifted his face to the sky and opened his mouth a little, as though hoping to catch sunbeams on his tongue.

"Suit yourself," Peter said with a shrug and jumped into the water as fast as his legs would take him. It was almost painfully cold, and little fish nibbled at his legs as he swam, and he didn't think he'd ever had an experience so wonderful in his whole life.

That evening, Mr. Potter and the Marauders sat around the fire. Mr. Potter told them stories, his voice rising and falling in a lilting, almost-melodic rhythm as he spoke. After he had finished, the Marauders told one another ghost stories. Remus' were the best - so scary that Peter's heart would beat more quickly in his chest as he listened. Peter tried to make one up but was surprised by how difficult it was. Remus and Mr. Potter, and even James and Sirius, made it look so easy. Peter's tale about a hag trying to kidnap a young widower's children got long and boring, and in the end, after both his children had disappeared, Peter sent the widower down to the cellar to investigate a strange sound and stopped the story by simply emitting a blood-curdling scream. The others jumped a mile and then laughed heartily. James joked that he'd shat his pants, and Mr. Potter gave him a playful cuff in back of the head along with a not-so-playful warning to watch his mouth.

"But why did he scream?" Remus finally asked. "Did he find the hag down there?"

"Were there trolls?" Sirius asked.

"Was it a boggle?" James added, his eyes wide with excitement. Peter was a tad surprised; James had spent the entire day pointedly not speaking to him, claiming that he had ruined everyone else's fun.

Peter couldn't think of anything to say and was tired of the story. "There wasn't anything down there. He screamed because he stepped barefoot on a nail."

"But what happened to the children?" Remus asked. "Did the hag get them?"

"No, the hag was dead by then," Peter decided. "A muggle hunter killed her by accident. The children were playing in the woods. They came running when they heard him scream, and they all lived happily ever after."

"That's the worst ghost story I ever heard," James said, crossing his arms angrily across his chest. "Dad, you tell another one."

"I think it's getting to be time for bed," Mr. Potter decreed. "It's nearly ten o'clock."

"But we're not tired!" James whinged.

"Sirius is falling asleep," Mr. Potter countered.

Sirius, whose head had slumped toward his chest, popped his head up. Even in the low light of the campfire, everyone could see that his eyes were red and hazy. "I am not. I'm wide awake."

"Then go be wide awake in your tent, would you? And quietly, if you don't mind, because I'd like to get some sleep tonight. And by the way, I expect you boys to behave yourselves in there. I'm letting you have your own space because I trust you, but if you get into trouble, I'll be moving in tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," the Marauders replied, almost in unison.

James jumped up to hug his dad and wish him goodnight. Peter watched as Mr. Potter kissed James' spiky hair. Sirius, too, approached and also received a hug, but no kiss. Peter felt the jealousy rise up in his chest; he wondered if Mr. Potter would hug him if he asked, but James turned back to them in that moment and said, "Come on, then. Let's turn in." He turned to Sirius. "Race you!" and they were off.

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Remus said softly, and he, too, rose to leave. Peter didn't move.

"All right, Pete?" Mr. Potter asked.

"It's 'Peter'. I really don't like to be called 'Pete', Mr. Potter."

"Ah," Mr. Potter said, nodding slightly. "Then my apologies, Peter. But I hear the others call you 'Pete' all the time."

Peter nodded. "They never listen to me."

"I see," Mr. Potter said. Peter had the sudden feeling that Mr. Potter _did_ see, and what's more, that he understood. The man skirted the fire and sat next to Peter, in one of the chairs he had conjured for the occasion. "They're all very fond of you, you know."

"James isn't speaking to me."

Mr. Potter surprised Peter by letting out small chuckle. Peter didn't find anything remotely humorous about this situation. "Yes, James has quite the temper, doesn't he?" He turned to Peter and winked. "He gets it from his mother, you know." He let out another little chuckle. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. His temper always burns itself out quickly. I've had him tell me he hates me and tell me he loves me in the same sentence. I'm not a gambling man, but even so I'd be willing to bet he's forgotten all about it by morning."

Peter said nothing. He merely stared into the fire, watching the shapes it made. He imagined he saw faces within the flickering flames. "What if I haven't forgotten about it by morning? What if I still want to be cross?"

Mr. Potter took a long, slow, deep breath. "Being cross with someone doesn't mean you're not still friends, you know," he offered. "Everyone quarrels sometimes, and I occasionally think we quarrel most with the people we like best, because they're the ones we're around all the time. You know, I've been married to Gwen - Mrs. Potter - let's see, it'll be..." He took a moment to count on his fingers. "Forty years next month. I love her and James more than I've ever loved anyone, but we still argue sometimes. We argued just last week, as a matter of fact, and we were angry, and we both said things we probably shouldn't have, and in the end we forgave one another because that's love. No one's perfect. And sometimes you just have to love someone enough to let them be imperfect."

Peter gave a small nod. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he wasn't cross any more. He had no idea how Mr. Potter had managed to do that. "I should go to bed," he said softly.

Mr. Potter inclined his head once and stood. "Goodnight, then. Try not to fret."

Peter stood as well and hesitated, not sure what he wanted from his father's friend. He stepped forward and threw his arms around the man with such force that Mr. Potter stumbled backward two steps. "Thanks, Mr. Potter."

Mr. Potter chuckled once more and returned the embrace, patting Peter on the back. "You're welcome, Peter."

Peter let go. "Good night."

"Happy dreams."

Peter never managed to get to sleep. He never slept well the first night in a new place. Tomorrow night, he'd sleep like the dead, but now he tossed and turned. He couldn't get comfortable. It was too hot for blankets, but when he tossed them off, he was soon shivering. Everyone else was asleep. Remus had somehow wedged himself into a corner and slept with his head hanging upside down off the pillow, snoring loudly. Peter rolled over to stare at the darkened ceiling. The darkness seemed to deepen as he watched it. From beside him, he heard a sigh, and Sirius rose from his bed and left the room. Going to the loo, most likely. When he did not return after several minutes, Peter went after him and found him playing a solitary card game on their little kitchen table, a glass of milk and a handful of biscuits in front of him.

"Can't you sleep?" Peter asked.

Sirius looked up, startled, and shook his head. "I got tired of trying."

"Can I play?" Peter asked.

Sirius motioned for him to sit and offered him the plate of biscuits. "Do you know any card games?"

"I know Gin Rummy. Aunt Miriam likes that one."

"I don't know that one."

"I could teach you," Peter offered. "It's easy."

"Yeah, okay," Sirius agreed. He picked it up quickly, and within two rounds was stomping on Peter. Peter forced himself to be a good loser, but he couldn't help thinking how unfair it was that Sirius was so damn good at everything.

"Is James still cross with me?" Peter finally asked after the fifth round.

Sirius shook his head. "I managed to convince him he was being a prat. Only he's too embarrassed to apologize."

Peter let out a derisive little snort. "He's such an idiot sometimes."

As soon as he said it, he braced himself for Sirius' reaction, but Sirius only shrugged. "We're all idiots sometimes. The whole thing was my fault anyway. I should have just let you have the top bunk." Sirius lifted his head to look into Peter's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Peter thought it might have been the first time he'd ever heard Sirius apologize to him and mean it. "It's fine. I shouldn't have made such a big thing out of it." Peter wasn't sure where the words were coming from, but he was surprised to find that he meant them. Remus and Mr. Potter were right; it had been a silly thing to fight over. He wasn't sure now why he'd cared so much. What did it matter where a person slept, if he was just going to sleep through it anyway?

"I was really only cross with myself because I didn't think to bagsy it first," Sirius explained. He nodded his head decisively. In the future, we'll always respect bagsy rules." He held out his hand and Peter shook it. This time, no one squeezed.

"Agreed."

"Good," Sirius said with a mischievous grin. "Because I bagsy the last biscuit."


	40. Remus: 27 July, 1972

Remus: 27 July, 1972

"I want to throw it back," Remus told Mr. Potter, staring at the fish he had just caught as it flopped around inside the pail. It was the first fish he'd managed to catch the whole week.

"Why?" Mr. Potter asked. They threw back the small ones, or the ones they caught after they had enough to eat, but there was no reason to throw this one back. It was a whopper. Mr. Potter said when they caught their first glimpse of it leaping out of the water, that it may even have been bigger than the one James caught yesterday, and that one very nearly fed them all.

"Look at it!" Remus cried. "It can't breathe!"

"That's why you kill it quickly," James called as he threw his line into the water.

"I don't want to kill it!" Remus said, watching it flop one last time. Then it seemed to give up all hope and lay still on the bottom of the pail, its gills opening and closing as it struggled to live. "I don't want to hurt it at all. I want to throw it back. Please can we throw it back?"

"All right," Mr. Potter agreed. "It's your fish. If you want to throw it back, that's what we'll do."

James and Sirius and Peter all protested, but Mr. Potter silenced them with a definitive, "Remus caught it. It's his decision." And so, Remus lifted the pail and slid the fish back into the water. A moment later, they saw it jump into the air. Remus imagined it was saying thank you. Then he stared at the water, thinking how wonderful it would be if it turned out that that was a magical fish who was actually a jinn and could grant wishes. Remus would wish that there could be a cure for werewolves. And then he would wish that Peter's mother could be well. And then he would wish that his parents could have back all the gold they'd spent on finding a cure for him so they'd never have to worry about money again. Remus smiled, just thinking about it.

Peter whooped, pulling Remus out of his reverie. He'd caught a fish that turned out to be a slippery eel. They always threw the eels back, but Peter refused, claiming it was his eel and therefore his decision.

Mr. Potter suggested they try to catch another one and make a soup out of them. James and Sirius both caught one, but Remus decided he'd had enough of fishing. He hated to think of hurting the little fishies, even if they did make for a delightful supper. Mr. Potter had to apparate home for some of the ingredients for the soup, but it tasted perfect. Everything seemed to taste better when they were camping.

After dinner, they roasted marshmallows and ate them with burned and sticky fingers while they shared stories once again. Remus made up a story about a muggle sailor who fell in love with a mermaid and tried to get to her, but he couldn't. Day after day, he would go out in his boat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the waves, and day after day, she would swim to the surface, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sailor. They couldn't speak to one another, but they communicated all they needed to through the love in their eyes, and sometimes the sailor would jump into the water and they would swim together through the waves. Those were the happiest moments of both their lives.

One day, one of the sailor's crewmen told him about a wizard who lived in the woods who could help him, and so the sailor went to the wizard, and the wizard transfigured him into a merman - gave him a powerful tail in place of his legs and gills in place of his lungs. He swam, overjoyed, to the spot where he and his mermaid love always saw one another, but she was not there. He waited through the night and all through the next day, but she never came. Until sunset, when a rowboat approached. Inside was the mermaid. She, too, had gone to a wizard for help and had asked to become human. The wizard transfigured her into a human - giving her legs to dance on and a voice for singing and lungs to breathe in the sweet air, and so they still could not be together. And now, every day, the mermaid came out on the sailor's old ship and jumped into the water and they swam together until sunset, never speaking, just holding one another's hands and being together, until they grew old and the sailor died. His body washed up on the shore by the mermaid's feet, and she threw herself into the water to drown so they could finally be together in death.

"Why didn't they just go back to the wizard and ask him to transfigure the sailor back?" James asked.

"Too easy," Remus explained. "The point of the story is that true love overcomes all odds, and that it doesn't matter what sort of things separate people. If they're in love, they'll always find a way to be together."

"Why couldn't he take the mermaid to live in his bathtub?" Peter asked.

"That wouldn't be a very good life," Sirius argued. "Living in a bathtub."

"Okay, his swimming pool, then," Peter allowed.

"You don't kidnap people you love and force them into swimming pools," James asserted. He turned to his father for support. "Do you, Dad?"

"Well, I certainly wouldn't," Mr. Potter agreed. "But then, I've never fallen in love with a mermaid."

"I think it was a beautiful story, Remus," Sirius said, nodding definitely. "True love overcomes all odds."

"Do you think it really does, though?" Remus asked, staring into the dancing flames. "What if she hadn't been a mermaid? What if she'd been a hag?"

"No one would ever fall in love with a hag," James said. "Have you ever seen one? They're hideous!"

"Okay, then, what if she'd been a veela?" Remus asked.

"Veela marry humans sometimes," Sirius pointed out. "There's supposed to be some veela blood in the House of Black, somewhere far down the line. That's how we're all so good-looking." Sirius grinned and winked and went to run a hand through his hair but frowned when he remembered his hair wasn't long enough for that anymore. He scratched at his head to recover and picked up a stick to poke at the fire.

"We officially deny it, though. My mother says no Black ever would have married a beast, no matter how beautiful it may have been. Just the mention of it makes her furious, which means its most likely true."

"Okay, not a Veela, then," Remus said, feeling frustration rise inside of him without understanding why. "Suppose she'd been a vampire or a siren or a... a werewolf!"

"Who would ever fall in love with a werewolf?" James asked.

"Can werewolves even love?" Sirius added.

Remus' breath caught in his throat. Of course he could love.

"Of course they can," Mr. Potter said firmly. "Werewolves are people, boys. They're just people who have a disease. One night a month, the disease takes over, but all the rest of the time, they're just like everyone else. With hopes and dreams and loves and fears. It's evil, the way we treat them. Pure evil."

"My dad says that werewolves are pure evil," Peter said knowingly. "He says that after they're bitten, they're not human anymore. They're monsters. He says they don't even have souls and that all they want to do is eat children. He says we should stamp them all out."

Remus wanted to scream that that wasn't true. That he had a soul. But his words caught. He'd give himself away. Tears stung the back of his eyes as his throat tightened painfully. He swallowed past it, willing the tears not to come. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, suddenly brutally aware that Mr. Potter was watching him. He wished he'd never brought it up, never thought up the stupid story about the stupid mermaid. He'd wished he'd done as James suggested and made magic the hero in the end: made magic fix everything. But magic couldn't fix anything. Magic couldn't fix Remus.

A horrid pain blossomed in his chest and threatened to explode out of him in sobs. His best friends in the world thought he didn't have a soul. Did everyone think that about him? Then an even more terrible thought came to him: what if it was true? What if the werewolf who bit him had stolen not just his life and his health, but also his soul? The thought was too much to bear; suddenly Remus couldn't catch his breath.

"Have you ever met a werewolf, Peter?" Mr. Potter asked softly.

"No," Peter spat. "And I never want to!"

"I have," Mr. Potter continued. "I've treated a few people who were stricken with lycanthropy, and I can guarantee you that they have souls." Mr. Potter didn't look at Remus as he spoke, but Remus knew the words were spoken for his benefit, and he was grateful. "Werewolves usually get to be werewolves because they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's certainly not because they are evil or deserve it. It could happen to any of us, and there's no cure. Then, to add insult to injury, they are shunned by society and treated horribly by people espousing the same attitudes as all of you. How would you feel if someone told you that because you once caught the flu you have no soul?

"Werewolves are not evil, at least not any more so than all the rest of us. They are people, first and foremost. All people are. Prejudices say much more about the person who perpetrates them than about the person who must bear them. Never let yourselves be the type of people who keep others underfoot out of ignorance or desire for more power for yourselves."

No one spoke for a long while, until Mr. Potter said it was time for everyone to go to bed. Silent tears were still making their way down Remus' face, but he had shimmied himself over so that he was in a shadow and no one would see.

The Marauders no longer protested when Mr. Potter said it was time for bed, usually because they were all so tired from a long day of swimming and hiking and rock climbing and canoeing and such like. The others rose in a clump and made their way to the tent. James stopped at the tent flap and turned back. "Are you cross with me?" he asked his dad.

"No," Mr. Potter replied. "Cross would be a strong word for it, but I don't like to think that you would participate in perpetuating such a ridiculous and hurtful prejudice."

James' shoulders drooped as he hung his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Mr. Potter gave a small smile. "I know you are. But do you know what the best way to show you're truly sorry is?"

"Do better," James replied in a tone that left no doubts in Remus' mind that he'd been told that same thing many times before. "I will, Dad. I promise. I just never thought about it like that."

Mr. Potter's smile widened. "I know. And I'm very proud of you. It takes a very big person to admit to making a mistake." Mr. Potter held out his arms, and James rushed into them. Mr. Potter chuckled as James planted a kiss on his cheek. "Go on. To bed with you." He swatted lightly at James' backside as he scampered off toward the tent.

At the flap, James turned back again. "Remus, are you coming?"

Remus took a deep breath, hoping his voice wouldn't betray his tears. "In a minute. I've still got a marshmallow to roast."

James seemed to accept that answer because he said, "Well, hurry up!" and disappeared into the tent.

The moment James was gone, Mr. Potter came to sit next to Remus in the shadow and offered him a handkerchief. "That couldn't have been easy for you to hear."

Remus shook his head, even though Mr. Potter couldn't see.

"They said I don't have a soul," Remus whispered, feeling the hot tears, which he had very nearly brought under control, return to his eyes. Then they were dripping down his face, and his shoulders were heaving, and his throat hurt, and he couldn't stop the little whimpers that were coming out of his mouth or the gasping breaths that his lungs drew against his will. And then, without thinking about it, he dropped his face into Mr. Potter's shoulder. It was such a very paternal shoulder, and so very good for crying on. Mr. Potter wrapped an arm around Remus, and Remus waited for words of wisdom or words of comfort, but they never came. Mr. Potter was quiet as the grief Remus had been holding in burst out of him in loud, painful wails that he was sure the others could hear.

Remus stopped the tears as quickly as he could, though he'd never been particularly good at controlling his emotions. He wished he was. He wished he could be stoic. But when his tears were coming, they just came. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was afraid the others would think him a gigantic, blubbering baby if he didn't start learning to control it soon, but he didn't know how.

"I don't think they meant it," Mr. Potter finally offered, his voice soft and soothing.

"Then why would they say it?" Remus cried.

"Because they don't know what they're talking about," Mr. Potter said softly. "They're just repeating things they've heard other people say."

"But why would other people say it?" Remus asked, not lifting his face from Mr. Potter's shoulder. He was starting to feel embarrassed over his tears. Silly that, really. Why should a person be ashamed of tears? He wanted them to stop and didn't want them to all at once. There was something strangely comforting about giving in to them, even as there was something humiliating about the loss of control.

Mr. Potter took a deep breath and gave Remus a small squeeze. "Because no matter how intelligent they may be individually, people are collectively rather stupid, and because ignorance breeds contempt. Werewolves are rare, and they're mysterious, and they're frightening to the people who've never met one, so they're an easy target for the sorts of people who like to build themselves up by tearing other people down. And, sadly, there are many of those people in the world."

"But why?" Remus asked again. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Why couldn't everyone just love everyone else? Why did people have to hurt one another? Wouldn't the world be better if everyone treated everyone else well? And wasn't that what everyone really wanted? To be loved and honored? Why did the world have to be so awful, and why didn't anyone do anything about it?

Sirius stuck his head out of the flap. "Remus? Are you all right?"

"He's fine," Mr. Potter called. "He'll be in in a moment. We're just talking. Go to bed. And tell James to stop eating biscuits."

"How did you know?" Sirius asked.

"I know everything, son. And don't you ever forget it."

Sirius laughed, said, "Yes, sir!" with a sarcastic flair, and went back into the tent. As the flap closed, they heard him say, "Jamie, your dad says to stop eating biscuits and go to bed!"

"They'd be very upset if they knew they'd hurt you, you know," Mr. Potter said softly.

Remus nodded. He did know. It didn't change anything. Remus shivered slightly.

"Are you cold? Would you like to go inside?" Mr. Potter asked. "We can go to my tent. I could make you some tea, if you like. And Mrs. Potter gave me a fresh batch of biscuits when I went home. Only don't tell the others. They won't last ten minutes if James finds out I've got them. You can stay the night in my tent if you don't want to see the others just yet. I've got an extra bed."

Remus shook his head and finally lifted it from Mr. Potter's shoulder, taking solace in the beauty of the glowing coals of the dying fire. Mr. Potter took his arm away from Remus and patted his knee.

"Try to remember that it isn't personal," he said softly.

"But it is!" Remus cried. He hated hearing that things weren't personal. Whenever he got in trouble at school and was upset because he was always secretly afraid that the professors had punished him because they didn't like him, James and Sirius would look at him like he'd lost his mind and say it wasn't personal. Or when a new law came out making it harder for werewolves to exist in the world and Remus would be afraid all over again that no one besides his parents would ever love him and that he'd never be able to have any sort of life worth having, even if he was at Hogwarts, he would rant and rail about how it wasn't _right!_ as thought anyone cared about right and wrong where werewolves were concerned, and he would finally break down and ask, in tears, "Why are they doing this to me?" and his dad would tell him it wasn't personal. But it was.

"It is personal! I think 'It's not personal' is just something we say to make ourselves feel better when we've hurt someone. Or a way to tell someone that their feelings don't matter when they do! 'It's not personal' is the worst phrase ever invented. Its only purpose is to tell a person to go away and stop hurting right here in front of me. It is personal! It is! Pain is always personal!"

Mr. Potter was silent for long moments. "Yes, you're right," he finally allowed. "Suffering is always personal to the one who is living it. But what I meant was that the prejudices don't have anything to do with you as a person. They don't have any bearing on who Remus Lupin is. It has to do with the people in power being afraid. They're not thinking about individuals."

"Right," Remus said bitterly. "They don't even know who I am, so it can't have anything to do with me, so I've got no right to be hurt by it, even though they're playing games with my life."

"That isn't what I said, Remus," Mr. Potter said softly.

"I know," Remus agreed, feeling ashamed of his outburst and worried about what Mr. Potter must think about him now. Tears began flowing down his face once again, but he bit them back, afraid that he would disintegrate into sobs again if he let the hurt get its footing. "I'm sorry. I just... can you leave me alone? Please?"

"As you wish," Mr. Potter said. He patted Remus' knee once more and stood. "If you decide you want some company, feel free to come to my tent. I'll be awake for a while yet, and even if I'm not, feel free to wake me."

"Thanks, Mr. Potter," Remus said softly. Mr. Potter pointed his wand at the fire and it flared, big and hot.

"Stay warm out here," he ordered and disappeared into his tent.

Remus stared at the fire for hours, lost in his own thoughts. He wondered, sometimes, what the point was. He wondered what he had done to deserve this curse and why it had happened to him and how he could live with it for the rest of his life. He spoke the thoughts aloud to his mother sometimes, and she always said he would take it one day at a time just like everyone else, but Remus found little comfort in that. He was always looking toward the future, Remus. Living in the moment, but looking toward the future, and the future was a terrifying thing for a werewolf.

Sirius' voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Remus? Are you out here?"

"On the other side of the fire," Remus said softly. He wasn't sure he wanted company, but he didn't want to be alone any longer either.

"What are you doing out here?" Sirius asked, coming to join Remus by the fire.

"Just thinking," Remus said. "What are you doing? Couldn't you sleep?"

Sirius shook his head. "I was waiting for you. But then you never came."

"Sorry," Remus said softly, not even sure what he was apologizing for.

"You don't have to apologize. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine," Remus said dully. He wasn't fine.

"You don't seem fine."

"Well, I am," Remus replied, his voice curt as a wave of annoyance rose up inside of him. "Just leave me alone."

Sirius stared at him for a moment. "Okay, if that's what you want. Only you should come inside soon. It's freezing out here, and you don't want Mr. Potter to catch you."

Remus only shrugged. "Mr. Potter won't care."

Sirius shrugged, too, and stood to go back to the tent. At the flap, he turned back. "Remus, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Remus replied. Why did everyone keep asking him that? Maybe he should go in and get into bed and pretend to sleep. At least that way everyone would leave him the hell alone. But he didn't want to lie in the dark, and he didn't want to listen to the others sleep. He wanted to be here, among the crackling of the flames and the hooting of the owls and the whispering of the wind and the-

"What's that?" Sirius asked suddenly.

"What?" Remus asked.

"Behind you!"

Remus turned, wound tight with anticipation, and saw the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. By the shores of the lake, not too far away, a unicorn had just stepped out of the trees. It was such a pure, bright white that Remus was sure in that moment he'd never actually seen white before. All the things he thought were white were really a dingy gray pretending to be white. It almost seemed to glow in the light from the waxing moon, as though it could sing down all the moonlight in the world and train it on its wondrous face.

"Wow," Remus whispered, and realized he'd forgotten to breathe. "It's beautiful!"

"We have to wake the others," Sirius whispered back, coming to stand next to Remus.

Remus agreed. "I'll keep an eye on it. You go get them."

The unicorn eyed Remus warily, but apparently decided he was no threat, because it bent down and began drinking from the waters of the lake. The ripples that wandered out from where its horn had touched had little glimpses of silvery-white in them, as though even the water was touched by the unicorn's magic and could recognize that something amazing was happening on its shores.

Remus took two steps forward. The unicorn looked up and made a small neighing sound; it pranced a few steps away, tossing its moonlit mane. Remus took another slow step, and another. The unicorn pawed at the ground and whinnied. Remus walked slowly, pausing between each step, until he was close enough to reach out and touch it. It snorted, and he could feel its hot breath on his outstretched hand.

Remus touched its nose, surprised by the silkiness of its coat. Then he reached up to run fingers through its flowing mane. It pawed at the ground and lowered its head, its horn touching Remus' forehead. His skin felt warm where it touched, and a feeling of peace radiated through him.

James, Sirius, and Peter appeared just then. It seemed far too soon for them to have been there already, or perhaps the unicorn was playing tricks with the time. The unicorn lifted its head and locked eyes with Remus before dancing away.

James hopped over, still pulling on his boots."Wow, a unicorn! We have to go after it!"

"No," Remus argued. "Leave it alone. We don't want to frighten it."

"But maybe we can catch it," Sirius breathed. "They're supposed to be really difficult to catch. Just think of the story we can tell if we manage it."

As though it could sense what the boys were discussing, the unicorn neighed, its eyes wide, and turned to trot back into the line of trees.

"Come on!" James ordered. "Let's go!" and he took of after it.

Sirius followed, whooping with the joy of the adventure. Peter followed after, his face lit up with excitement, and Remus brought up the rear, yelling at the others to leave the poor thing alone and to stop scaring it.

The unicorn led them on an exciting chase through the forest. Remus began to think it must be toying with them. One moment, it would slow until they nearly caught it, and then just when they thought they would, it would run off again, leading them on twisting turns. They chased it through the night until, as the sun rose over the horizon, it slipped over the crest of a hill, and when the Marauders had climbed it, they couldn't catch a glimpse of it anywhere.

"Bugger," James declared, flopping onto the ground. "I really thought we were going to catch it a few times."

"So did I," Peter said with a sigh, flopping down beside James.

Sirius looked around at the land laid out before them. "Does anyone know where we are?" he asked.

James was up in a flash, looking around. "I can't see anything. There are too many trees. We have to go back. My dad will be up soon."

"But I'm tired!" Peter whinged. "We've been running all night. Can't we rest a moment?"

"No, we can't!" James snapped, already starting down the hill. "Dad will be really angry when he wakes up and sees we're gone. I can't believe no one thought to pay attention to where we were going!"

"We were all paying attention to the unicorn, same as you," Sirius snapped back.

"Well, someone should have thought about where we were going," James retorted, spinning around to face Sirius.

"Well, why didn't you?" Sirius asked.

"Because I was following the unicorn!" James replied, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"Well, so were the rest of us! So stop trying to make this our fault!"

"Who said I was trying to make it your fault?"

Remus' annoyance returned. Now that the excitement was over, the fatigue of his sleepless night was starting to catch up with him, and he was suddenly very hungry and even more thirsty and just wanted to be back at camp. "Would you two just stop it?" he snapped. "We're not going to get back any faster by being mean to each other."

The others were silent, but James and Sirius stopped glaring at each other and walked on.

"Maybe from now on we should appoint a wayfinder for whenever we're somewhere we don't know," Remus suggested a moment later. "And that person can keep up with where we are so we don't get lost."

"That's a great idea," James exclaimed, then let out a little shout. He stopped so suddenly Sirius bumped into him and Remus saw why he had shouted. Both of them disappeared over the edge of a cliff. Remus ran to the edge, his heart pounding. Peter was right on his heels. He looked over, fearing what he'd see, and spied Sirius and James lying in a little clump at the bottom, not more than six feet down.

"Geroff!" James called, and Sirius rolled off of him.

He stood and offered James a hand up.

"Are you two all right?" Remus asked. They'd landed in a mud puddle, but just beyond that the lake water gleamed.

"Fine," James answered. He looked up and down the sides of the little cliff. "But we're soaked, and I don't think we can get back up."

"Well, it looks like you've found the lake. We can't be far from camp."

"I don't know," Sirius said warily. "It's an awfully big lake. And look!" He pointed off across the lake to where a small stream of smoke rose. "I think we're on the other side from the camp."

"Brilliant!" James cried, pulling out his wand to dry himself. "I've always wondered what was over here! I tried to swim across once, but my dad said it was too deep and made me come back. I bet I could, though. It doesn't look that far."

It looked plenty far enough for Remus. "Don't swim across," he ordered in his firmest voice. "Peter and I will try to find a way down. We can follow the shoreline back to camp."

"That'll take us all day!" Peter whinged as they searched for a way to get down to the lake.

"It's better than being lost," Remus replied.

"Well, that's true, I suppose," Peter muttered.

They finally found a way to the lakeshore via a fallen tree that could be walked down if a person was very careful. Remus went first, holding his arms out for balance, and Peter followed behind. Then they backtracked to where James and Sirius were waiting with their shoes off, dangling their toes in the water. They put their shoes and socks back on and Remus noticed for the first time that they all looked much worse for the wear. The others had pulled their cloaks and shoes on over pajamas, so only Remus was dressed for the forest. They were all scraped and muddy and looked rather as though they'd run through a thicket of thorns. Remus began to feel little scratches on his arms and face for the first time and wondered how he'd got them all without feeling them. He'd been so entranced by that unicorn.

A silvery shadow appeared in the distance, and for a moment Remus thought the unicorn had returned, but the Marauders soon saw that it was a patronus in the form of a glowing bear that spoke in Mr. Potter's voice and told them to follow, that it would lead them back to safety, and to tell it if they were hurt, so he could send help.

It was after noon when they stumbled back into the camp, tired, sore, and hungry. Mr. Potter was pacing back and forth, the ground worn where he had walked. The moment he saw them, he hugged James so tightly he turned red, then hugged all the others, and then hugged James again. When he'd finished, he pulled James to arm's length and crouched down to look him in the face. Remus hung back; he'd never seen Mr. Potter so angry, not even the day they were all suspended.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"We got lost," James whispered.

"We saw a unicorn," Sirius said. "And we followed it. We didn't mean to get lost. Only we were so busy following it, we forgot to pay attention to where it was leading us."

"What did I tell you boys just yesterday?" Mr. Potter shouted. "Never get off the path! Always know where you are! What if you'd been hurt! What if I couldn't get to you!" He pulled James into another hug.

"We're fine, Mr. Potter. Honestly," Peter said. The words seemed to pique the man's temper.

"You are not fine!" he bellowed, pulling James to arm's length once again. "Every last one of you is bleeding! I can't believe you did this, James Michael. You know better. We've been coming out here for years! You know you have to be careful! You know how easy it is to get lost or hurt in the woods. You..." Mr. Potter seemed at a loss for words. His mouth moved for a moment, but no sound came out, and he took a deep breath. "I made a mistake when I thought you boys were ready for this. Pack up. We're going home."

"No, Dad!" James cried. "We don't need to go home. We won't wander again, no matter what we see. We'll stay right by your side. We won't even leave camp unless you tell us we can."

"That isn't the point, James," Mr. Potter snapped. "The point is that I trusted you enough to follow the rules and keep yourselves safe. Since you've proven you can't do that, we're leaving. I'll think about maybe letting you come again next summer."

"But Dad!"

"No, James!" Mr. Potter shouted. "That's enough!" He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair and looked away from his son. "Go pack," he said softly, his voice harsh. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes."

James rushed into the tent and the others followed just behind. Remus hesitated at the flap. "Mr. Potter?" he asked softly.

Mr. Potter turned, his face taut and his eyes sad. "What is it, Remus?"

"We really are sorry," Remus offered.

Mr. Potter nodded. "I know you are, but it doesn't change the fact that you all did something very foolish."

Remus paused, not sure what else to say.

"Go get packed," Mr. Potter ordered, casting a stream of water from his wand to put out the fire.

The boys gathered their things quickly and quietly, each lost in his own thoughts, and when the fifteen minutes were up, they stood beside Mr. Potter, bags in hand, waiting for the portkey that would take them back to Godric's Hollow to activate itself.

Remus' heart clambered in his chest as Mr. Potter explained to Mrs. Potter what had happened, and she cleaned them up and tended to their wounds. Peter had lost one of his house shoes somewhere along the way, and his big toenail on his right foot had been torn clean off. He yelped as Mrs. Potter said the spell that would make it grow back, but afterward he said it felt better. Mrs. Potter kept up a steady stream of light scolding as she worked that left Remus feeling near tears, but they never came. Perhaps he was getting better at controlling them after all. Or perhaps he was too tired to cry. After she'd patched them up and they were all showered and fed and in clean clothes, they were sent straight to bed. Remus awoke near sunset to find he was the last one up. The others were enjoying a quiet meal in the kitchen.

When they'd finished, Remus made his way to the parlor, where Mr. Potter sat reading a book and smoking his pipe. Remus almost didn't want to bother him, but a question was burning at him and he had to know.

"Mr. Potter?" Remus said timidly. "Are you still cross with us?"

Mr. Potter looked up and closed his book. "No, I'm not still cross. I was very frightened for you, though. You boys have to stop with this habit of disappearing you've developed. You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days. What would have happened if you hadn't been able to find your way back? How would I ever have explained it to your mother?"

"I'm sorry!" Remus said desperately.

"I know," Mr. Potter said, a small smile playing at his lips. "I'm also guessing it wasn't your idea."

Remus didn't move, not wanting to get the others into any more trouble than they were already in.

Mr. Potter's smile widened. "That's what I thought. You were probably trying to stop them, weren't you, and just got swept along?"

Remus gave a small nod.

"I was the same way when I was young. I had a group of friends, much like the Marauders, and I was always the one trying to talk sense into everybody while they were off trying to think of new and creative ways to land us all in detention."

Remus let out a little laugh. Yes, that sounded familiar.

"None of them cared if they got in trouble, but I always did. I fretted over every lost point."

Remus nodded. "I do that."

"I know, and you shouldn't. It won't matter much, once you're older, and teachers are forgiving sorts of people. They know that everyone makes mistakes, and they won't hold it against you." Mr. Potter paused for a moment. "And neither will I. So try not to worry."

"Are you going to send me home?" Remus asked.

"No. I don't think that's necessary. I think you've all learned your lesson. Besides, Sirius' parents are out of town, and it wouldn't be fair to send you and Peter home, but not him."

Remus swallowed hard, the tightness in his chest slowly lessening. "Are you going to tell my parents?"

"Hmm. I haven't thought that far. No. No, I don't think I will. Cutting the trip short was punishment enough, I think. Don't you?" Mr. Potter winked.

Remus breathed a little easier. "Thanks, Mr. Potter."

"Don't mention it." He picked up his book again, and then offered it to Remus. "Have you ever heard of this book?"

Remus stepped forward and took it. It was called _In the Light of the Shadow_ and had a full moon, shining brightly over a dark forest, on the cover. Remus shook his head. He'd never seen that book before.

"You'd like it. It's a memoir. Written by werewolf woman who fell in love with an apothecary. They were married and ended up raising two of her nieces after her sister died. They're both in their seventies now, and still happily married. She writes, and he's still making potions. They have a shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. She makes a case for more rights for werewolves. A lot of people are reading this and its changing their opinions about werewolves. There are even some rumblings in the ministry about passing legislation that will let werewolves take ministry jobs. Here, you can borrow it, if you like."

Remus took the book. "Thanks," he whispered, his chest expanding with the little bits of hope that were filling it. He stared at the cover as he walked back to join his friends. The artist had done a fantastic job painting the moon. It hardly looked frightening at all.


	41. James: 29 July, 1972

James: 29 July, 1972

The rain came down in torrents, and James watched from the window, staring glumly toward the guest house, which was very nearly obscured by the falling water. If it hadn't been for the welcome light at the front door, he wouldn't have known where it was at all. He was almost glad his dad had made them come home. Except for the part where his dad shouted at him in front of all his friends and ruined their adventure. As if he wouldn't have gone after the unicorn if he'd been there. Still, when they awoke the next morning to a violent thunderstorm, James was happy enough to be warm in his own bed.

Though it hadn't take him long to get bored. Rainy days were always boring, and this one was even more boring than most because Remus and Peter would be leaving that evening, so he felt they ought to be doing something terribly exciting, not sitting here playing gobstones as though their lives depended upon it.

Suddenly, James couldn't bear it for another second. He stood, announcing, "I'm going outside."

"Your mother said to stay in," Remus replied.

"But she's not here, is she?" James retorted, looking around dramatically. She'd gone to visit her sister and had been gone all day. Harry was in the library, buried in a book, trying to give the boys space. James always appreciated that. His mother hovered when his friends were around. It was nice, he supposed, having her there. They never ran out of drinks or snacks when she was there, in any event. And he loved her, and all. But they couldn't always be themselves around her, either. They couldn't swear, for instance. James swore, loudly, just because he could.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"Let's go outside!" James insisted, poking Sirius in the shoulder. He began to bounce a little on his heels. "It'll be fun! We can go flying in the rain!"

"No," Remus declared. "I'm not getting in trouble again."

"Then stay in here and play gobstones," James replied breezily. "I'm going outside. Sirius, are you coming?"

Sirius looked apologetically at Remus. "Sorry, mate, but I am getting a little tired of gobstones."

"Aren't you still grounded from your broomstick?" Remus asked.

James scowled in return, kicking himself for having told Remus that. He made a mental note to never mention being grounded to Remus again. "Only until Tuesday, and I should get to fly now anyway because I'll be at Sirius' house on Tuesday, so I probably won't be able to fly then. Besides, if I don't get caught, what difference does it make?" James nodded, impressed by his own chain of logic, and turned to Peter. "Pete, are you coming?"

Peter took a moment longer than Sirius to decide, glancing back and forth between Sirius and James' expectant faces and Remus' disapproving one, before biting his lip and nodding.

"See you, Remus," James said, offering a little wave as he turned toward the back door. The library faced front, so Harry wouldn't see them if they went out back. And as long as they were in and dry by the time James' mother came home, which shouldn't be too difficult, they'd be golden. He counted down in his head as they walked, sure that Remus wouldn't let them get far before he decided to come. Five... four... three... two... one...

"Wait!" came Remus' hesitant cry when they were nearly out of the room. Right on cue.

James turned, his eyebrows raised in a well-schooled expression of mild curiosity. "Yes?"

"Are you sure we won't get into trouble," Remus asked,his eyebrows knitting together nervously.

"Yes, I'm sure," James replied, keeping the exasperation out of his voice. Honestly, how was Remus ever going to have any fun if he was worried about getting into trouble all the time? "My mother won't be home for hours, and my dad won't bother us. He trusts us!"

Remus shrugged. "Well, if you're sure..."

"Come on!" James said, grabbing Remus' wrist and pulling him along.

It was a warm day, despite the rain. It was almost pleasant, really, now that the lightning had stopped. James could pretend he was Chaser for England during their legendary 1968 match against Fiji, when they'd stubbornly refused to call off the game, despite the typhoon.

"And he scores!" James yelled, steering his broomstick into the wind as he threw the quaffle two inches over Sirius' outstretched fingers. "The crowd goes wild! Potter has done it again! With absolutely no help from his team's shoddy defense, Potter has single-handedly brought his team from behind to tie the game! Can anything stop this man?"

The quaffle hit him in the head very suddenly, and he whipped toward Sirius. "Would you stop playing announcer?" Sirius asked. "Or at least announce what the rest of us are doing, too?"

"I'm getting cold," Peter complained, coming to join the others. "Can't we stop the game now? So, we didn't make it to one hundred. Ninety-Ninety is pretty good!"

"Remus, go now!" Sirius called, and only then did James realize he'd caught the quaffle after it bounced off the side of his head. "Their goal is unprotected!"

"Time out!" James called triumphantly.

"You can't call time out once the play has already begun," Sirius retorted. "Go, Remus! Go! Go!"

"Peter, help me stop him!" James called out, racing behind Remus, but he had too big a head start. Remus and Sirius were going to win.

Sirius cheered when Remus made the shot. Even Peter cheered when Remus made the shot. James stopped suddenly, and hovered sadly in mid-air. He'd lost. James had never lost at quidditch before. James never lost at much of anything, really. He had grown used to Sirius beating him at most things, but not at quidditch. It wasn't even fair. Peter wasn't guarding the goal, and he'd called time out.

Sirius and Remus were celebrating, circling on their brooms and pumping their fists in the air and slapping one another high fives. James frowned, watching them. "You cheated!" he accused, rushing toward them.

They stopped celebrating suddenly. "No, we didn't," Sirius said casually, though his smile had faded from his face.

"Yes, you did. I called time out!"

"You didn't call time out until after Remus was already headed toward the goal. You can't call time out in the middle of a play."

"But we were already stopped. Peter was over here. We were talking. Besides, you threw the ball at my head. That's a foul. I should get a penalty shot."

"I only threw the ball at your head because you were being so annoying I could hardly think straight. If anything, the rest of us should get penalty shots for having to put up with you!" Sirius declared, his eyes narrowing.

"At least I don't have to cheat to win!" James shouted, his temper rising.

"We didn't cheat! You're just a sore loser!"

"It's only a game, James," Peter said softly.

"You shut up!" James shouted, rounding on him. "This is all your bloody fault anyway. You shouldn't have left the goal unguarded. Any five year old knows that!"

"Fine," Peter replied. "If that's how you're going to be, you can just play the next game on a team by yourself."

"It couldn't be worse than being on a team with you!" James shot back.

"Stop!" Remus yelled. Remus yelling was so unexpected that they actually did stop. "If it means that much to you, we'll call it a do over. Say it was interference or something."

"Absolutely not" Sirius argued. "We won it fair and square. It's not our fault James can't bear to lose."

"I don't mind losing, if I lose fairly."

"Oh, so I've been imagining all those times you threw your chess pieces, or swept the cards off the table? Come on, Remus and Peter, let's go find something else to do." He shot James a hard look. "Without him!"

James was sure that Remus and Peter would protest, but instead they followed, Remus with a small, apologetic shrug. James sat stock still on his broomstick and watched them land. Then he watched them walk toward the veranda. Loneliness crept into him. He couldn't bear the thought of them all off doing something fun while he sat out here alone. "Sirius!" he called, bringing his broom down to land. "I'm sorry. Please let me play with you."

"No," Sirius said, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to face James. "It's no fun playing with you, Jamie. Not if you're going to act like a baby when you lose."

"I won't," James promised, stuffing the urge to remind Sirius that he had cheated. "And besides, I wasn't acting like a baby."

"You were acting exactly like a baby," Peter corrected. James kicked mud at him.

"Oi!" Peter protested, looking down at his robes. James didn't understand what he was so upset about. They were all covered in mud already. Peter reached down and picked up a handful of mud. James dodged it, and it hit Remus in the chest.

"Hey!" Remus complained, and threw a handful of mud that hit Peter's shoulder. The next thing James knew, they were all throwing mud and laughing as they ducked behind trees. He ended up covered in so much mud he could hardly see. The stuff caked his glasses, but whenever he stopped to clean them, someone would hit him with a mudball. He even managed to get some in his pants; though he had no idea how.

"What in the world are you doing?" Gwendolyn's voice called just before a clump of mud hit her in the face.

Remus gasped as she dropped the bag of groceries she'd been carrying. A baguette flopped over onto a little muddy rivulet running through the back yard. She reached up and wiped the mud off her face as James dropped the ball of mud he'd been just about to throw at Peter and tried his best to look innocent. No one moved; no one even breathed.

James' mother glared at him as she reached down to pick up her ruined groceries. She came up with a smile on her face and threw a splotch of mud side-armed that hit James' stomach. James smiled slowly through the shock. "Mum!" he exclaimed. "This is war!"

Gwendolyn shrieked and ran for cover, managing to make it safely to the veranda without being hit again. She appeared a few moments later with a camera and stern orders not to get her any dirtier. The boys posed for the camera, muddy water streaming down their faces. They held hands, running and shouting and spinning and leaping and dancing. Gwendolyn laughed at their antics as she snapped picture after picture and then ordered them inside to clean up because Remus and Peter would have to leave soon. Sirius wouldn't be leaving until morning; James would be leaving with him, to spend two days at Grimmauld Place.

Gwendolyn hosed the Marauders off on the veranda, shooting a stream of warm water out of her wand, hoping to save her carpets as much as possible. Even still, they tracked mud all over the house. She followed along behind them, cleaning it with a scouring spell.

When James stepped out of the shower, he found his muddy robes gone, and fresh ones waiting in their place. The dry clothes felt nice after being wet for so long. He stepped out and was surprised when he looked at the clock. He'd been in the shower an awfully long time. He couldn't help it; he'd had to shampoo his hair twice to get all the mud out, and he was relatively sure there was still some in his ear. He had no idea how he was going to get that out. Perhaps his mother would have an idea.

When he went down stairs, he found Peter and Sirius waiting in the parlor, along with his parents and Remus' mum. Remus was nowhere to be seen.

"Why didn't you tell me you were having a mud fight?" Harry asked the moment James appeared. "I'd have been brilliant at that!"

James shrugged. "Mum, do you know how to get mud out of your ear?"

Gwendolyn laughed, shaking her head. "I haven't the foggiest, but here, give me your glasses. You've still got some mud stuck in the hinges."

James took off his glasses and handed them over.

"Your face looks funny without your glasses," Peter said.

"Your face looks funny no matter what," James retorted.

"Boys," Mr. Potter said softly.

"We were joking, Dad," James said quickly. "Weren't we, Pete?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed glumly as James' mum handed him back his glasses.

James put them back on and smiled as the world came into focus. "Much better!" he declared as Remus appeared on the stairs. He hugged his mother tightly.

"How was camping?" she asked.

"It was perfect! We saw a unicorn!" Remus replied excitedly.

"It let Remus touch it," James provided, managing to keep most of the jealousy out of his voice.

Gwendolyn smiled and gave Remus a one-armed hug. "That means you're pure of heart. Unicorns are supposed to be very picky about who they'll let come near."

"Really?" Remus asked, smiling. James began to wonder why the unicorn wouldn't let him come near. He was pure of heart!

Remus said his goodbyes and promised to meet everyone in Diagon Alley. They'd planned to go the Saturday before they had to be on the train and get all their supplies together.

"When are you going to be in Diagon Alley?" Mrs. Lupin asked.

Of course, they'd forgotten to inform their parents of their plan. Sirius took over the explanations. He was good at talking people into things.

"S'il te plaît, maman," Remus added when Sirius had finished telling everyone how wicked it would be and how much fun they would have. It was quite amazing; he could make buying frog eyes sound exciting.

"I suppose we can work that into our schedule," Mrs. Lupin allowed.

Remus hugged her. "Merci, maman!"

"De rien. And now we must be going. Dinner is waiting. Your father made pork chops."

"I love pork chops!" Remus exclaimed, starting toward the floo. A few moments later, he and his mother were gone.

"When's my dad coming?" Peter asked the second they had disappeared.

"Should be any moment now," Harry replied. "Are you all ready to go?"

Peter nodded. "I packed everything this morning."

Harry suggested they play a game until Peter's father came, and once he was gone, it took James and Sirius only a few moments to make their excuses and run up the stairs to the sanctuary of James' room.

"What do you want to do now?" Sirius asked.

James shrugged. He didn't want to go outside: it would be dark out soon, and besides, he wasn't sure how keen his parents would be on the idea of his covering himself with mud for the second time in a day. But he was bored. He thought he'd die if he had to play gobstones or chess one more time. He dug in his ear, trying to get out a bit of the mud, but it wasn't coming. He wished his dad hadn't confiscated his wand again; otherwise he might have been able to get it out with a spell. It was worth a try, anyway.

"We could go get my wand. My dad always hides everything in the same place."

"Yeah, sure, okay," Sirius agreed with a noncommittal shrug. "Where does he hide things?"

"In the broom closet next to his bedroom. It's tiny, but there's a secret room. My dad doesn't know I know about it."

"Doesn't he work it out when you keep finding the things he hides there?"

"Well, I'm not thick enough to go about advertising!"

"What about when you got your wand? Didn't he put two and two together?"

"He didn't hide my wand there. He just told me to put it away in my trunk. We'll get the wand and have some fun, and then we'll put it back before they're any the wiser."

Sirius shrugged. "That seems like a plan, I suppose."

James stuck his head out his bedroom door and looked around to be sure his parents weren't watching. He heard his mother laugh from downstairs, and before long his father's deep chuckle joined hers. James wondered briefly what they were laughing about, and thought about going down to find out. But he was a man on a mission. Men on missions didn't have time for jokes. He motioned for Sirius to follow him quietly.

The only thing in the closet was a broken broomstick. James never understood why his dad kept it; he said it was the first broomstick he ever owned, and the one he'd used when he was on the quidditch team at Hogwarts. His father had been a seeker, and a thumping good one if his own stories were anything to go by. He tried out his third year and beat out James' mother. She became a chaser, but she never quite forgave Harry for beating her for her favored position. She used to throw quaffles at his head during practice until their head of house threatened to kick her off the team if she didn't stop.

Sirius and James crammed into the tiny space together. "Don't leave you much room to maneuver, do they?" Sirius asked. James grabbed a piece of the broken broomstick and prodded a little hole in the wall. Sirius fell into the secret room when the back fell out of the closet. The room was always larger than James remembered it. It had a low, sloping ceiling that made it seem small, but ran almost the entire length of the house. James breathed in deeply, smelling the familiar musty, woody, dirty smell.

The room was mostly storage. There was the tiara James' mother wore on her wedding day, and old photo albums with sepia-toned pictures of his grandparents and his parents when they were children. It was odd, sometimes, to think of them as having been children once. To him, it seemed they had always been hopelessly old.

"He hides things in the back," James told Sirius, motioning for him to follow along. Sirius looked around as he walked, sometimes asking about something or the other. Most of the things he asked about, James could tell him. "That sword was goblin-made and purchased by my great-great-great-great grandfather for a duel with a muggle who accused him of witchcraft," or "That's a crystal ball. It belonged to my great-great aunt, Isabella Potter McKinnon. She claimed to be a seer, but none of her predictions ever came true." A few of the objects, he knew nothing about. One of them - a small staff with a griffin atop it - James had never even noticed before.

A golden snitch flitted around the room. James caught it when it came to close and let it struggle inside his fingers. "This is my dad's. He caught it at his last quidditch match at Hogwarts. His friends wanted him to play professionally, but he wanted to be a healer and help people. I've always wished he had played quidditch professionally. That would be brilliant, don't you think?"

"Brilliant," Sirius agreed absently, reaching for a book. "What is this?"

"Looks like a Charms book," James said, coming closer to look over Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius blew a layer of dust off the book. James' nose immediately began to itch. He sneezed twice and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. "Come on," he ordered impatiently. "We didn't come in here to look at books!"

"This has some interesting spells in it. Here's one to make someone tap dance. We should make Snape do that in the middle of Potions. It would be brilliant. Oh, look! Here's one to take off someone's underpants!"

"Wicked! Let me see that!" James came over to join Sirius, and they flipped through the book. It was full of all sorts of wonderful things that filled James' head with ideas and, even better than that, James' father had made notes in the margins about spells he'd made up himself. James' favorite was one to transfigure a person into a pink bunny.

"A pink bunny," Sirius said with a satisfied not. "I like that idea. I can threaten Pete with that the next time he's being annoying."

"Look at this," James said, pointing to a spell he'd just spotted. "A spell to become bound as brothers. We should do this one, Sirius! We could be brothers! Think how great that would be!"

Sirius looked at the page, a frown on his face. "I don't know. I've already got a brother."

"Well, I haven't!"

"But I have. And besides, we don't really know what this spell will do. What does it even mean to be bound as brothers?"

"Who cares? Don't you want to be my brother?"

Sirius bit his lip. "Only I think we should know what it actually does before we try it. And besides, I like the brother I've got. Most of the time, anyway."

James scowled. He'd always wished he could have a brother, and having Sirius as a brother would be the best. But he supposed Sirius didn't want to be brothers with him. "Fine. I didn't want to be your brother anyway. Come on. Let's go get my wand before we get caught in here." He snapped the book shut and tucked it under his arm as he started toward the back where his wand was sure to be. He wasn't sure why he was so suddenly angry. It was silly to feel angry over something like that. So, Sirius didn't want to be his brother. Why should he care?

"Jamie, don't do that. Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" James asked, not looking back.

"Get all... you know... pouty... whenever you don't get your way."

James began poking at a shelf, mostly to give himself something to do with the sudden surge of nervous energy he felt. "I'm not pouty. And I don't care about getting my way. I already told you. I didn't want to do it anyway. So I was thinking - I don't think I should go to Grimmauld Place after all. I think I'm coming down with a cold. Here it is!" James reached behind a potted plant and pulled out his wand.

James started toward the door, pushing past Sirius on the way. He wanted to look at him to show he didn't care, but he couldn't make himself, somehow. Instead, he stared resolutely at the ground, ignoring the pounding of his chest and the rushing in his ears.

"James, wait!" Sirius called, and James stopped, his hand already on the little button that would open the door. James sighed. He didn't want to talk to Sirius; he just wanted to be left alone.

"What?" James snapped, turning to face Sirius. "What do you want?"

"If it's so bloody important to you, we can do the damned spell."

James took a deep breath, biting back a surge of irritation. It reminded him of Remus on the quidditch pitch, offering to let him do the play over just to be charitable. James didn't need anyone's charity. He was just fine on his own, thank-you-very-much.

James huffed. He knew he was acting like a baby, but he couldn't seem to stop himself, which only made him want to lash out all the more.

"I don't want to do the spell, Sirius! Just leave me alone!" James stomped out of the room and to his own room, slamming the door behind him. He went to his bed and flopped down onto it. Griselda appeared out of nowhere to nuzzle at his cheek. He never would understand how she always knew to show up when he was upset. James sat up and put the cat in his lap. He scratched absently at her head, feeling guiltier and guiltier by the second, which he didn't understand. Sirius was the one who had said he didn't want to be James' brother, so why should James feel guilty? Was it the same reason he felt guilty after the quidditch match when Sirius was the one who cheated?

James had just decided to get up and find Sirius and apologize when there was a soft knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"Sirius."

It crossed James' mind for a moment to say he didn't want to talk to Sirius, but instead, he heard his own voice say, "Come in."

Sirius appeared in the door frame, closing the door behind him. "Are you still cross?"

James shook his head. "I'm sorry. I was being a prat. I shouldn't have tried to make you do the spell." James took a deep breath, forcing his tone to remain even, not wanting Sirius to know he was hurt. "If you don't want to be my brother, I understand."

"It isn't that!" Sirius came to join James on the bed, pushing Griselda out of the way. "I think it would be brilliant to be your brother. Sometimes I wish we could be brothers, and I could come live here with you, but if I was your brother, I couldn't be Reg's brother."

"A person can have more than one brother, Sirius."

"But a person can only have one family. And I want to keep mine. Would you want to give up your family?"

James had never thought of it like that. He couldn't imagine having to give up his mum and dad. James sighed. Now he felt like an even bigger prat. "No, I suppose I wouldn't."

"So, I thought about it, and I think I have a plan. I read in a book once about people becoming blood brothers. There are no spells or anything, but it still means they're best mates forever."

James perked up a little. "How do you do that?"

"Well, we find a knife and we cut our thumbs, and we put them together, and the blood mixes up so you've got some of my blood and I've got some of yours, and then we're blood brothers. I was thinking maybe we could do that. I mean, if you want to."

"We have to cut our thumbs? Won't that hurt?"

"Only a little. And then we'll get your mum to heal them. It'll only hurt for a little while, and then we'll be blood brothers forever."

Blood brothers forever. James liked the sound of that. "Yeah, okay. I'll do it."

Sirius produced a small silver knife from behind his back. "You want to go first or second?"

Just then there was a knock at the door. "James! Sirius!" Gwendolyn called. "May I come in?"

Sirius stuck the little knife behind his back just as James called out that his mother could enter.

"What are you boys up to in here?" Gwendolyn asked with a knowing smile.

"Nothing," James replied. "We were just, erm..."

"Talking about girls," Sirius provided. "James still thinks Lily's the prettiest girl in the school, but I think Gretchen Wilson is prettier."

Gwendolyn smiled. "I see. Well, I came to find out what you two would like for dessert."

"What are our choices?"

Gwendolyn's smile deepened. "Whatever you want, my dear one."

Sirius looked at James, who looked at the ground. He knew his mother wouldn't like the idea of her two favorite boys cutting their own thumbs, even if it would make them brothers.

"What about treacle tart?" Sirius asked. "It's my favorite."

"Why, that's James' favorite as well. It's decided then. I'll make that."

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter."

"Thanks, Mum," James muttered.

"Would you like to help me?"

"Not just now, Mum. We're sort of busy. Maybe later, though."

"You boys behave yourselves up here," Gwendolyn replied with a wink, and left, closing the door behind her.

James let out his air in a loud "whoosh" and looked up to find Sirius watching him and shaking his head.

"You have got to learn to play along."

"I played along!"

"More like stuttered along. Now come on, do you want to go first?"

James and Sirius paused as they heard footsteps outside the door. The footsteps stopped, and a shadow crossed the gap between the door and the floor. Sirius began talking loudly about Lesley Lockett. A moment later the shadow moved on.

"That was probably my dad, listening to make sure we're behaving. Maybe we should find somewhere else to do this. Somewhere my parents won't think to look."

Sirius shrugged. "Works for me."

They decided to go back to the secret room behind the broom closet and sneaked there, tiptoeing stealthily. Once they were safely inside, James declared he'd like to go first and took the knife. He recognized it immediately: it was from his dad's potions kit. "Did you nick this from my dad?"

"Of course. Where else would I have got it?"

"I don't know, from the kitchen or something. We can't use this! If he finds out, he'll be cross. I'm not supposed to touch his potions kit. I accidentally set the house on fire last year trying to make a potion that would turn my friend Aurelia into a baboon."

"Do you try to turn all your friends into baboons?"

"No, just her. And besides, she deserved it. She got me in trouble, and my parents wouldn't let me have dessert."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "How awful."

"You only say that because you've never had my mother's treacle tart! Anyway, my dad went mental. He told me if I ever touch his potions kit again, he'll take away my broomstick for a week! I've almost earned it back. If I lose it again now, I'll really never make the quidditch team!"

"We'll put it back before he even notices it's gone. And if he does notice, I'll say I took it. I'm starting to think you're stalling because you're afraid of a little cut."

James straightened. Him? Afraid? Rubbish! "I am not afraid." James held out his thumb and placed the knife against it. He closed his eyes and winced as he drew the blade across his skin. The cut began to throb immediately. James longed to wrap it in his robes, but resisted the urge, not wanting to appear cowardly in front of Sirius. A drop of blood pooled on his fingertip and fell to the ground.

Sirius took the knife and drew it across his own thumb, grimacing as he did so.

"Now what?" James asked.

"Now we put our thumbs together and count to ten and promise to be blood brothers forever."

"Do you feel any different?" James asked as they pulled their thumbs apart.

Sirius appeared pensive. "Yes, I think I do. I've never been anyone's blood brother before."

"I definitely feel different," James declared. He didn't feel the slightest bit different. "Come on. Let's go get my mum to heal us and help her with the treacle tart. She'll probably let us be the taste-testers."

Sirius replaced the silver knife carefully with James' dad's potions, and the two of them made their way downstairs.

"Well, James cut his thumb running it along a comb, and then I didn't believe a comb would actually cut a person's finger, so I did the same thing, and that's how I cut my finger," Sirius explained to James' mother.

She let out a small laugh. "I once burned my hand touching the stove right after my brother did it. He barely touched it and started crying, but I didn't think it was even on, so I said, 'What are you crying about? It's not even hot!' Then I decided to touch it to show him and ended up with blistered fingers. I was about your age. It was the first time my parents ever left us children home alone. They didn't do it again for a long while after that. There. Is that better? James, let me see yours."

A moment later, James' mother was dabbing his cut with mutlap essence, and the sting disappeared. Then there was a tiny drop of dittany, and the cut was completely gone. "Now," James mother said, "who wants to help me stir?"

After they had eaten, and James had had two helpings of treacle tart, Harry asked James to follow him upstairs for a moment.

"I haven't done anything!" James blurted out, thinking of the stolen silver knife.

"Which almost certainly means you have," Harry replied.

"No, I didn't! I swear!"

Sirius sighed and dropped his gaze, the picture of abject misery. "Mr. Potter, I went into your potion room today. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to. James found me in there and told me to come out. I'm really sorry, sir. I swear I didn't know it was against the rules!"

Harry smiled and reached across the table to ruffle the remains of Sirius' hair. "You two have been worrying about that? It's not a problem. You didn't know. And besides, now that you've learned how to brew potions responsibly, I don't think there's any need for that rule anymore. Just make sure you ask me first, okay James?"

James nodded, wishing once again that he had Sirius' talent for getting out of trouble. He turned back to look at Sirius as he followed his dad curiously out of the room, but Sirius only shook his head, a cheeky grin on his face.

"I'm not going to lie to you, James. Your mother and I are very uncomfortable about the thought of you staying in Grimmauld Place. But I know you want to, and I know Sirius wants you to come, and his parents as well. So we're letting you go, but I want you to take this. If anything happens, anything at all, I want you to call me, and I'll come get you. Understand?"

James nodded and took the small, flat object that was in his father's hand. He studied it for a moment and looked up at his father. "A mirror?"

"It's a two-way mirror. I've got the other one. Say my name into that, and I'll hear you. And you can call me for anything, Jamie. If you get into trouble, or if you want to come home, or even if you just want to talk to me."

"How did you make this?" James asked, thinking of how brilliant it would be if the Marauders could have a set of these two-way mirror thingies.

"It's rather complicated, but I'll show you another day. Sirius and your mother are probably downstairs wondering where we've gone off to."

Sirius, James, Harry, and Gwendolyn played games until it was time for the boys to go to bed, and in the morning, when Mrs. Black appeared to take the boys back to Grimmauld Place, his parents hugged him tightly.

"Don't worry, Gwen. It's only two days," James heard his father say through the mirror that he clutched tightly in his palm when he saw the hag statue in the corner of the frigid room he had learned was Grimmauld Place's parlor. "What could possibly happen in two days?"


	42. Sirius: 31 July, 1972

Sirius: 31 July, 1972

No sooner had he had some time to learn his way around and get used to the dark decorations, than James decided that Grimmauld Place was a wonderful place for adventures and began to get great joy out of making the bust of Sirius' great-great-grandmother in the parlor scream.

"I thought that was a hag," James said when Sirius explained who she was.

Sirius winced as he looked up at her face. "She was a Flint. Looks have never been their strong suit."

The bust glared at Sirius indignantly. Sirius looked away, worried that her glare might turn him to stone if he looked at it straight on. It had always been difficult for Sirius to imagine that he was descended from her. No wonder Phineas Nigellus was always in such a bad mood.

"I was considered a great beauty in my youth," the bust protested in her scratchy voice, raw from so many years of screaming. "They didn't have me pose for this until I was nearly eighty years old. You try being married to Finny for sixty years and see how good you look!"

"Finny?" Sirius repeated, his face twisting into a smile. "You call him Finny?"

"Of course. What else would I call him? Stop poking my eye!"

The bust closed her eye as James jabbed his wand at her.

"Cut it out, Jamie! Do you want her to start screaming again? My mother said to stop."

"But it's so much fun!" James replied, but even so he stopped jabbing his wand at her.

"Come on. Let's go listen to the quidditch match."

James' eyes widened. "I can't believe I forgot about the quidditch match! That's practically a crime against humanity!" James ran out of the room, but returned to say goodbye to the bust and thank her for talking to him. The only response he received was the twitching of her eye.

Sirius and James raced up the stairs to Sirius' room, eager to hear the quidditch match. Sirius peeked his head into Regulus' room as they passed. He was already listening to it, sitting in his bed and leaning forward expectantly.

"Who's winning?" Sirius asked.

"Puddlemere United," Regulus reported gloomily. "They're up by seventy points. Want to come listen with me?"

"Sure," Sirius said with a smile. "Come on, James." Sirius and James rushed in and hopped onto the bed with Regulus. "The Lions are dreadful this year. Carter's halfway worthless. A dead hippogriff could probably seek better than he can."

"I know. They must have been mental when they traded Johnson to Tinworth," Regulus added with a knowing nod.

"Maybe the Tinworth manager confunded someone."

"You two are just sore Tinworth keeps beating you," James cut in. "It's not our fault if London made a bad trade."

Regulus looked James up and down. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be noble. Or are you only noble when it suits you?" He elbowed Sirius as he spoke.

"You little brat," Sirius said with a smile. "Being noble doesn't mean you have to be a pushover. You should be so lucky as to be in Gryffindor." Sirius began tickling Regulus. The tickling quickly turned into all-out wrestling, which quickly stopped when the boys heard Orion pounding up the stairs. By the time he arrived, Sirius and Regulus were both sitting cross-legged on the bed, their features carefully arranged into looks of seriousness.

"What are you three doing up here?" he demanded.

"Listening to the quidditch match," Sirius said innocently.

"Puddlemere's winning," Regulus added nonchalantly.

"Listen to the match without shouting, if you don't mind. This isn't a barn. "

"Yes, sir," Sirius muttered. Orion watched them for a moment, his eyes boring into them. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius could see James squirming uncomfortably. All three boys breathed a sigh of relief when he exited without a word, slamming the door behind him.

"Is he always so irritable?" James whispered.

"Usually. Actually, he's on his best behavior because you're here"

"That's not true!" Regulus protested. "He's nice sometimes." Regulus turned to James and said, in a haughty tone, "he takes us to the seaside every summer. Tell him, Sirius!"

Sirius was in no mood for another row with Regulus; it seemed they did very little beside row these days, and he certainly didn't want to row with him in front of James. "So, who do you think will win the league?"

James insisted it would be Tinworth, while Regulus insisted it would be the Wimbourne Wasps. Sirius smiled a little as the conversation turned toward who had the best chasers and seekers and beaters, and he began to feel a little hope that Regulus would grow to actually like James. Sirius had always been sure that Regulus would like James if only he'd give him a chance. Honestly, Sirius had trouble imagining anyone not liking James. Except for Snape, of course, but he didn't count.

And then it suddenly took a bad turn when Regulus said, "I can't believe you actually like Tinworth. Only nancy-boys like Tinworth."

James' smile faded quickly. Regulus looked at him as though daring him to say something.

"Look! It stopped raining!"Sirius said, too loudly, hoping to head trouble off at the pass.

James ignored Sirius, still watching Reg and looking as though he would very much like to say something. In the end, he must have decided against it, because all he said was, "We should go out."

The sky was dark and cloudy, leaving the world outside muted and blurry and raw. Rain still dripped from the leaves, but James would not take no for an answer. Before Sirius could even respond, he was already out the door and down the stairs.

"I don't like him," Regulus said dryly the moment James was gone.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at his brother. "You don't even know him!

"I know him well enough to know I don't like him. You should ignore him. He's going to end up soaking wet out there. Stay up here. Play gobstones with me."

"I can't just leave him outside, Reg. What if something happens to him?"

"What could happen to him? As long as he's not an idiot and stays inside the wards... and doesn't try to steal from the fountain."

Sirius shrugged. "Why don't you come down with us? It'll be fun. He's aces at quidditch. Maybe we can play."

"No, thank you. Look at the sky. It's going to start raining again any second. Your friend's not the brightest."

"Sure he is. He just prefers to be outside, and he's been cooped up for three days."

Regulus only shrugged. He'd always enjoyed doing indoor things the best, so he would never understand the itch Sirius and James felt to be outside as often as they could. Sirius always felt better about things when he was outside. He felt more alive, somehow, when the sun was beating down on him. He could hardly bear the thought of being cooped up inside for more than a few days; that was his idea of torture. Or prison.

"I thought you just got back from camping."

Sirius looked sheepishly at the ground. "We sort of had to come home early. It was my fault."

Regulus shook his head. "Do you do that on purpose?"

"What?"

"Cause trouble everywhere you go. Why don't you ever follow the rules?"

Sirius smirked. "Where's the fun in that?"

Regulus didn't answer for long moments. "Well, are you going to play gobstones with me, or not?"

"I have to go, Reg. He's my guest. I can't just ignore him."

"Why not? He's ignoring you."

"Sirius, are you coming?" James bellowed up the stairs.

"Can't you shut him up? He's going to end up getting us all caned!"

"Nah, Father won't cane us while he's here."

"Well, he might do it the second he's gone."

"Sirius!" James called, with more urgency.

"What is going on out there?" Orion bellowed.

"Nothing, Mr. Black," James called, a little more timidly than before. "We're on our way outside."

"Well, shut up about it! I'm working!"

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, Reg. Just come out for a little while. You'll have fun. I promise."

Regulus shook his head and stared intently at Sirius. "I want you to stay with me."

Sirius sighed and shook his head. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't just ignore James. For one thing, James would never stand for it, and for another, if his parents caught wind of it, there would be hell to pay. They would hate for anyone to think they hadn't taught their eldest proper manners.

"Why not?" Regulus demanded. "I'm your brother!"

"He's my best mate!"

"So! Brothers are more important than friends!"

Sirius bit his lip, trying to think what to say. There wasn't anything to say, he realized very quickly. They were going to keep having this same fight over and over, and no matter what he did, he would never win it. He stood and started toward the door. "I'll play gobstones with you tomorrow, after James has gone home."

A book sailed past his head, landing with a thud in his bedroom. It was a good thing Regulus had no aim. Sirius spun around. "What's the big idea?"

Regulus was standing, his arms crossed angrily - no, defiantly - against his chest. "Fine! Like him better! See if I care!"

"Why do you keep doing that?" Sirius cried, frustration pushing its way out of his voice. "You really need to stop listening to Mother, because I'm getting tired of having to tell you that I don't like James better than you."

"You keep saying it, but you're certainly not acting like it, are you?" Regulus shot back. "You get such joy out of hurting us, don't you? You ruin everything you touch!"

Sirius' memory prickled. Walburga's words. Those were Walburga's words coming out of Regulus' mouth. Sirius wasn't sure what to think of that.

How many times were they going to have to have this exact same conversation? Sirius was tired of this. Tired of all of it. Tired of false accusations and angry words. Tired of having to constantly defend himself to the people who were supposed to always be on his side. James never had to defend himself to _his_ parents. He never had to fend off accusations and lies. They were behind him even when he was in trouble. It was all so ridiculously unfair that Sirius could hardly stand it.

"Fine!" Sirius heard himself snap. "If that's what you want to believe, believe it! I don't care. I'm going outside with my friend, and you're not invited."

Sirius turned away to see James standing at the landing, listening. "Come on, Jamie. Let's go!"

Sirius marched past James, his head held high. James watched him wordlessly and padded silently behind. Neither of them spoke until they were outside. Sirius plopped down on the edge of the fountain and kicked at a rock. James kicked it back without a word. Sirius had to stand to reach it, hitting it with the side of his foot so it tumbled toward James. James' aim kicking wasn't quite as good as his aim throwing, so Sirius had to take a few steps to catch the rock and kick it back. It wasn't long before an impromptu competition had begun.

"No! No! Get it!"

"Don't let it stop!"

"Catch it!"

"Kick it harder!"

Soon, James was laughing, but Sirius was not. He didn't have it in him to laugh. Instead, he focused on the rock with all his might, determined not to let it slip past him.

The game continued until James missed the rock and stepped back to catch it, tripping over the edge of the fountain and falling in with a colossal splash. Only then did Sirius laugh, doubling over as he watched James come up directly beneath one of the greyhounds' spray. His foot caught on the hem of his robe and he went down again with a little yelp and another splash. He came up more slowly this time. Water dripped off of him; Regulus had said he'd end up soaking wet.

"Think it's funny, do you?" James asked, reaching down to send a spray of water toward Sirius.

Sirius stopped laughing abruptly and rushed to the fountain to splash James back. It didn't matter, really, as James was already as wet as a person could possibly be, but Sirius couldn't very well let him get away with that. They didn't stop until both had fallen in the water more times than they could count and were both soaked to the skin.

James lay back in the fountain, floating on the water, and spit a stream of water out of his mouth.

"That's disgusting, Potter. You do know that, right?"

"Well, they were doing it!" James said, pointing to the greyhounds with a smirk.

Sirius rolled his eyes. He sent one last splash toward James before climbing out. Birds probably pooed in here, after all. James climbed out behind him and looked at the sky. "Look! The sun's coming out!" He pulled out his wand and began to dry himself.

When James was dry, he handed the still-blowing wand to Sirius, who took it gratefully and dried himself off. It didn't take long, now that the sun was beating down on them. Sirius handed the wand back to Sirius and looked up at the sky, too, but a movement from the house caught his eye. It was Regulus, watching them from the window. Sirius sighed.

James came to stand beside him and followed his gaze. Regulus disappeared, leaving only a fluttering curtain to show he'd been there at all.

"He doesn't like me much, does he?" James asked softly.

Sirius shrugged. "It's not your fault. My parents have been lying to him. They told him I didn't come home for Christmas because I didn't want to."

"But that's not true!" James cried, incredulity in his voice. Sirius felt a small surge of appreciation for James. He always was an open book. It never would have crossed his mind to be deceptive, and so he couldn't understand it in others. It was comforting to Sirius, James' steadiness. Sirius knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could always count on James.

"Didn't you tell him it wasn't true?"

"Of course I did. He didn't believe me."

"But, why not?"

"Would you believe it if someone told you your parents were lying to you about something?"

James paused for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the empty window. "No, I guess not. But why would they lie to him?"

"I don't know. Probably to make sure he doesn't try to follow me to Gryffindor."

James nodded. "I still don't understand what they have against Gryffindor."

Sirius only shrugged. "All Blacks go to Slytherin. It's tradition. It's expected. We're purebloods. That's supposed to be the most important thing to us. They think Slytherin had the right idea about Hogwarts."

James frowned. "I'm sorry about your brother, but maybe once he gets to Hogwarts and sees that the other houses are okay, he'll come around."

"Yeah, maybe," Sirius agreed, not believing it even as he said it. Regulus would go to Hogwarts and be sorted into Slytherin and hang around with Narcissa and Malfoy and Snivellus and all the boys that their parents had been trying to make them be friends with all their lives, but that Sirius never liked. Regulus would go to Slytherin. He'd do anything to make their parents proud. Sirius returned to the edge of the fountain and ran his finger through the water. "Do you think wishes come true?"

James came and joined him. "I don't know. Maybe. I used to wish on stars when I was little, and sometimes they came true."

"I used to wish on stars, too."

"What did you wish for?"

"Different things. Sometimes I wished for toys. Once I wished that I could go live with my Uncle Alphard. He likes me, and not just because I'm the heir like Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella. He actually likes me. If I had a star now I'd wish that Regulus would be in Gryffindor like us."

"Well, maybe you can wish that in the fountain. It looks like a lot of people have wished in this fountain."

"I don't have a knut."

"Then we can just use one of these. No one has to know." James reached into the water.

"James, NO!" Sirius screamed, but it was too late. He was already up, a galleon in his hand.

"What? It's not stealing. No one's using it," James said defensively, staring at Sirius. Behind him, both the stone greyhounds had turned their heads and were baring their teeth.

"James, run!" Sirius called. James only sat there, looking at Sirius as though he had suddenly gone mental, until one of the dogs growled. He turned his head slowly, his eyes widening as he came nose to nose with a snarling stone canine.

"What the hell!" James shouted, standing quickly to stumble away.

"If you steal from the fountain, they attack! You have to run!"

With a leap that left gouges in the stone base, the greyhounds pounced. James rolled out of the way just before they landed right where his head had been only a moment before.

"Can't you do something?" James yelled, jumping to his feet and turning to face the dogs.

"No, you have to run!"

James turned tail and fled.

"Not that way!" Sirius yelled. "Run toward the house!"

Sirius didn't think James heard him. He was so busy running in every direction except the one that could actually get him to safety. Sirius wasn't sure what to do. He had no wand, and James could be digested by the time he got his parents to help. Sirius ran after the dogs, throwing rocks at them and trying to distract them. The rocks bounced off harmlessly, and the dogs seemed not to notice. Little wonder, that. Throwing rocks at a giant stone dog to get it to stop attacking was a bit like throwing grapes at a bully in hopes he'd stop punching you. Although, now that Sirius thought about it, throwing grapes at bullies might not be such a bad idea.

James scrambled up a tree in the corner of the courtyard, snatching his leg out of the way just before one of the dogs' teeth clamped shut around thin air. Both dogs began jumping against the tree, trying to get to him.

"Sirius, help me!" James yelped, his eyes wide with fright.

"Stay there!" Sirius called. "I'll go get my mother. She'll know what to do!"

Sirius rushed to the door and was nearly there when James screamed. Sirius turned back toward him and saw that the dogs were toppling the tree. With every jump, it leaned farther and farther as its roots slowly lost their grip on the ground. James was holding on for dear life, but it wouldn't help him for long. Time seemed to move in slow motion, fluttering past like a butterfly, as the tree creaked, leaning dangerously, and James fell to the ground. James managed to land on his feet, dropping to his knees, but before he could get his footing again the dogs were upon him. He scrabbled away from them, but they advanced, gigantic unstoppable forces.

There was nothing Sirius could do. There was nothing anyone could do. James would be mauled to ribbons.

James fumbled for his wand and managed to get it out of his sleeve just as the dogs pounced once more. James threw his arms over his head and shouted, "Confringo!" just as the dogs filled the air above his head.

A jet of light shot out of the end of James' wand and hit both dogs. They exploded magnificently, raining dust and pebbles down on James' head. Two emeralds and two sapphires that had been the dogs' eyes were the biggest pieces left of the centuries-old fountain. James looked up, still shaking like a leaf, and glanced around as though surprised to find he hadn't been killed. There was so much dog dust in his hair it looked gray.

Sirius ran to him and gave him a hand up. James took a moment to brush himself off. "Why didn't you warn me your fountain tries to eat people?"

"I didn't think you'd try to steal from a wishing fountain!"

"What were those things?"

"I don't know. Just the fountain. They guard the wishes, I guess."

"Did you know they would do that?"

"Yeah. They chased me and Reg once. We ran inside."

"I didn't think of that. Will your parents be angry?"

Sirius shook his head. They would be furious, but James didn't need to know that. "It was an accident."

James' seemed to read Sirius' mind. Sirius still found it disconcerting that James could know him so well.

"I'll tell them it was all my fault. I'll tell them not to be cross with you. I'll tell them to punish me if they have to punish someone. You won't be in trouble. I promise."

Sirius sighed. James could no more promise that than he could promise to put the fountain back together. "Where did you learn that spell, anyway?"

"I don't really know. I remembered it from that story: the one about the wicked witch who tricked a beautiful muggle princess into drinking draught of the living death and made thorns grow around her castle. But the witch didn't know that a wizard was in love with the princess, and he used confringo to get through the thorns. Then he gave her the antidote and kissed her, and she woke up and they were married because he saved her. Do you reckon Lily would marry me if I saved her?"

"I've no idea. So you learned that spell from reading _Sleeping Beauty_?"

James nodded. "Works pretty well, doesn't it? I'm going to have to remember that one. We could explode the chandelier in the Slytherin common room!"

Sirius had nothing to say to that. He reached down to pick up the two emeralds and two sapphires that had so recently been dog eyes. "We should go in."

James frowned. "Do you think we can do anything about the tree? Only I'd hate for it to have to live the rest of its life growing crooked."

"You're worried about the tree?" Sirius asked. "You just almost died, and you're worried about the tree?"

James looked at it. "Well, it isn't the tree's fault. And besides, it probably saved my life. I should try to help it."

James made his way slowly around the tree, inspecting the hole where the roots had come up. A little green snake slithered out of it. James yelled and backed away, but as he did, he tripped over one of the newly-exposed roots and fell right through the wards.

Sirius bolted to the edge, his eyes wide. Through the muted film of magic, he could see a muggle helping James to his feet. "All right there, boy?"

Sirius had never been outside the wards. Not out the back, anyway.

James ignored the muggle and began tapping at the ward with his wand. "Sirius!"

"Where did you come from?" Sirius heard the muggle ask. James looked around as though seeing him for the first time and began to sputter in response. He'd be telling his life story before long, Sirius knew. He had no choice. He leapt through the ward.

"James!" he cried. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Thank you so much for finding him." Sirius wrung the muggle's hand before turning back to James and taking his arm to drag him off. "We've been so worried about you! Mum and Dad will be so glad you're safe. You're in loads of trouble, though, running off like that."

Sirius and James rounded a corner, and Sirius let go. "All right?"

James nodded and looked around. "Where are we?"

"I've no idea."

"I tried to get back to your yard, but there was only a brick wall. I thought maybe it would give way like the one in King's Cross, but it didn't."

"The only way through is in front, and then only if you're allowed. Come on. We should go back."

James and Sirius started off, rounding the corner that put them back on Grimmauld Place, but Sirius paused in the street. He didn't want to go back, he suddenly realized. His parents didn't know he was gone yet. He probably had plenty of time. He gripped James' wrist, exciting bubbling up inside of him. "Jamie, let's run away."

Sirius expected James to say no. He expected him to say it was a stupid idea, and that anyway he'd miss his parents, but instead James' lips twisted into the mischievous smile that always told Sirius they were about to have the time of their lives. He nodded excitedly. "Where will we go?"

"We can stay with my Uncle Alphard for now. He won't tell my parents. He can't stand them. I've got my own vault at Gringott's. We can clean in out and then go... anywhere! We can go anywhere we want, James."

James thought about that for a moment. "I've always wanted to go back to Morocco."

"Morocco it is then!" Sirius declared. "We just have to find Diagon Alley."

James looked around, unsure. "Do you know where it is?"

Sirius shook his head. "We always use the floo."

James shrugged. "No matter." He stopped a passerby. "Excuse me. Can you tell us how to get to Diagon Alley?"

"Diagon Alley?" the man echoed. "I've never heard of it. What's it near?"

"Erm, you get in through the Leaky Cauldron," James said.

"On Charing Cross Road," Sirius supplied, glad that he remembered from the few times he'd managed to escape his mother and wander through the muggle shops.

"Oh, Charing Cross Road," the muggle said, nodding as recognition dawned. "That's easy! You just take the tube." He pointed off behind James and Sirius. "Get off at Tottenham Road."

The muggle rushed on, leaving James and Sirius staring at each other.

"Did he say the tube?" Sirius asked.

"How does a person travel by tube?" James replied.

Sirius shrugged. "We'll just have to walk. It can't be far."

Sirius couldn't have said how long they walked, but it felt like hours, and he hadn't seen anything that looked like the Leaky Cauldron. No one they asked had heard of such a place, though when James and Sirius mentioned Charing Cross Road, they were sent off in various directions. After a handful of such encounters, they stopped asking, determined to find it themselves. They were Marauders! They would not be outwitted by a road.

But now Sirius was tired, and his feet hurt, and his stomach was beginning to feel uncomfortably empty.

"I'm hungry," James said, as though he'd read Sirius' mind. "Let's stop and get something to eat. I've still got that galleon."

Sirius looked around. They were in some sort of shopping area, and there was a little pub on the corner that had delicious smells emanating from it. Sirius pointed. "Let's go there."

James didn't need to be asked twice. James and Sirius sat as a sullen waitress came over to take their orders. She eyed them curiously for long moments, and finally said, "Why are you wearing dresses?"

"They're not dresses," James said indignantly. "They're robes!"

"Why are you wearing robes then?"

"Are you here to inquire about our wardobes or take our orders?" Sirius snapped, mustering his best imitation of his father. Whatever else a person could say about Orion Black, he certainly commanded respect. So, apparently, did his eldest son, because the waitress dropped the question and asked them what they wanted.

"A hamburger," James said dreamily. "With chips, and butterbeer."

"Beer?" the waitress asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're far too young to be drinking."

"Not beer," Sirius corrected. "Butterbeer."

"We haven't got any of that," the waitress said dully. "I've never even heard of it."

"Bring us pumpkin juice, then," Sirius ordered.

"Pumpkin juice? Now see here, what are you boys playing at?"

"We're not playing at anything!" James protested. "We're hungry! If you haven't got pumpkin juice, just bring us water. And cauldron cakes."

"Cauldron... that's it! I haven't got time for games. Out! Both of you!"

"But we-"

"OUT!"

Sirius and James left reluctantly. "What was her problem?" James asked the second their feet hit the sidewalk. "Imagine never having heard of butterbeer."

A man walked into the pub, looking James and Sirius up and down with a little laugh as he did.

"Maybe we should get some muggle clothes. That way we won't stand out so much."

That sounded like a fine idea to Sirius. Muggle clothes were the fashion now anyway. They walked up the street and found a little clothing shop.

"May I help you?" a woman asked as they entered.

"We're just looking," Sirius told her. He and James looked until they found something sort of like what Dirk or Michael might wear, and went to the counter to pay. Only they couldn't understand the lady when she told them the price.

"What's a quid?" James whispered to Sirius. Sirius shrugged.

"We've got a galleon," James offered, holding it out to her. "Will that be enough?"

"If it isn't, we've got these, too," Sirius said, showing her the two sapphires. His parents probably wouldn't be too happy that he'd used their jewels to buy clothes, but what did he care? He'd never be seeing them again.

The woman narrowed her eyes as she took the sapphires. "Wait here boys," she said, and disappeared through a small door. Sirius glanced through and saw her talking into something on the wall. "They're the size of my fist, clearly stolen," she said softly into the whatever-it-was. "And they've got a gold coin about as big as a hubcap. Yes, please hurry."

"I think we should go," Sirius whispered to James. They started toward the door as the lady reappeared.

"Where do you boys think you're going?"

James and Sirius didn't answer as they rushed toward the door.

"Carolyn, stop them!"

The first woman, the one who had asked them if they needed help, stepped in front of their paths.

"Move out of my way," Sirius ordered, but Carolyn was not nearly as impressionable as the waitress.

"I've phoned the police," the lady behind the counter told them. "They'll be here any second, and you're not going anywhere."

"What are police?" James asked.

"You two are going to be arrested for stealing those jewels," the lady said haughtily.

James went for his wand, but Sirius stopped him, shaking his head. "We're not supposed to do magic. The ministry will know."

"I do magic all the time!"

"But not in the middle of a muggle shop!"

"But you heard her! We're going to be arrested! They'll send us to Azkaban!"

"Don't worry, they won't send us to Azkaban," Sirius told him. "I'll think of something."

But he could think of nothing, and soon two very stern-looking muggle policemen, one called Porter and one called King, were bearing down on them. "What are your names?"

"I'm Peter Lupin," Sirius said. "And this is Dirk Pettigrew"

"Where did you get these?" King asked, brandishing the sapphires.

James looked to Sirius, his face slightly panicked. Sirius couldn't work out what everyone was so angry about. Maybe his parents were right, and muggles really were monsters. Suddenly, Sirius wanted to go home.

"They're ours," Sirius said. "You've no right to take them. Give them back!" He was beginning to wish he'd let James do magic after all. They'd only get a warning from the ministry, and his father could probably make it go away. Who knew what muggles would do? According to Professor Binns, they used to try to burn witches and wizards. Weren't very successful at it, but still.

Sirius reached for the sapphires, determined to get them back, but King pulled them away. "Oh-ho! Attacking an officer! Big mistake, boy!"

The next thing Sirius knew, he and James were being pushed to the ground, and the policemen were going through their pockets. Soon they had the emeralds, and the galleon, and James' wand. Then they tied Sirius' hands behind his back with some strange portable shackles.

"Let me go!" Sirius cried, his temper erupting dreadfully. "I'm a Black! You can't do this to me! When my father finds out, he'll have your heads!"

James had gone very quiet, but Sirius shouted at the policemen all the way to their car, and then all the way to the station. James still hadn't said a word.

"Sit down and shut up!" the one called Porter ordered, pushing Sirius into a bench. He undid the shackles, leaving one around Sirius' wrist, and putting the other end around the arm of the bench. He did the same to James before turning back on Sirius. "I'm going to ring your parents. What's your telephone number?"

"My what?" Sirius asked.

"Don't be smart," Porter snapped. "Tell me your number."

"I haven't got a number."

"You expect me to believe your parents haven't got a telephone?"

Sirius looked at James. James only shrugged.

"What's your address, then?"

"Potter Manor," James whispered. "May we please go home now? We weren't really going to run away. We were only pretending. Weren't we, Sirius?"

Sirius didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't pretending. He had every intention of going to Morocco.

"Potter Manor? What sort of address is that?"

"I don't know. It's just our address. It's the name of our house. It's how the owls find us."

"What street is it on?"

"It isn't on a street. It's in the countryside."

"But it has to be on a street."

James shook his head, looking dangerously close to tears. "Please can we just go home?"

"Not until I've rung your parents, and you're just digging more trouble for yourselves by lying to me. And don't think blubbering's going to help!"

"I'm not blubbering," James retorted, a touch of pride in his voice. Sirius watched as James forced all traces of the tears away, swallowing them down.

"Don't shout at my friend!" Sirius yelled. "Why are you picking on him? Why don't you let us go! Pick on someone your own size!"

Porter sighed and muttered something that sounded very much like, "They don't pay me enough for this."

"I've had enough out of the two of you. I'm going to get the chief. Let's see how spending the night in a cell appeals to you." He walked away, mumbling about how if James and Sirius were his children, he would beat them. Every day. Whether they needed it or not.

Sirius jerked at the shackles the moment the policeman was out of sight, but all he succeeded in doing was bruising his wrist.

"I wish they hadn't taken my wand," James said glumly.

"I wish I'd thought to bring mine," Sirius replied.

"I wish you'd let me do magic at the store."

"I wish that, too."

"What are we going to do, Sirius?"

Sirius shrugged. He had no idea.

"James?"

Sirius' ears perked. That was Mr. Potter's voice. James' face lit up. He reached into his robes and pulled out a mirror. Mr. Potter's face was in it. Relief flooded into Sirius' soul.

"Dad!"

"James, where are you? Orion says you and Sirius have been missing for hours!"

"Sirius and I were arrested... by muggles. We're at the station. With the please men. They won't let us go. They think we stole a galleon. And some jewels."

"Why didn't you use the mirror?"

"I forgot," James said sheepishly. "And they tied our hands. They have these weird metal things. We're attached to a bench with them just now. We can't get away. And they took my wand!"

"Your wand? The wand you're not supposed to be using?"

James let out a little whimper. "Dad, please come get us. I'm scared!"

Mr. Potter sighed. "Which station are you at?"

"I don't know."

Mr. Potter made a small noise of frustration. "Have you told them your names?"

James shook his head. "Not our real ones."

"Tell them your real names. There are undercover aurors working for the muggle police. I'll let the auror office know what's happened. They'll find you."

"Dad, I'm sorry," James whispered. "We didn't mean for this to happen. The fountain attacked me, and then there was a snake, and I fell out of the wards, and then we decided to go to Diagon Alley, but we didn't know how to travel by tube, and we got lost, and the waitress threw us out and we couldn't find clothes. And I promise, I'll never run away again!" James' lip trembled as he held in tears. "I just want to come home."

Mr. Potter stayed in the mirror, talking to them. James had calmed considerably by the time he had to hastily put the mirror away because Porter had reappeared with a man that Sirius assumed must be the chief. He was a swarthy bulldog of a man, with teeth that bared themselves naturally and tiny, piercing eyes that all but disappeared beneath his lids. His jowls quivered of their own accord. "What's all this?" he barked in a rough voice.

"We're sorry," James cried. "I'm James Potter. This is Sirius Black. He lives at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. I live in Godric's Hollow."

Porter shook his head. "I will never understand how you do that, chief."

"Get them up," the chief ordered.

Porter and the chief led Sirius and James to a tiny room, and the chief ordered Porter to leave them. Sirius' heart clambered in his chest as the chief glared at them. But no sooner had Porter gone than the chief removed the shackles. "You two have caused quite the stir today. Your parents are worried sick. Both your fathers will be here shortly."

"Mine, too?" Sirius asked, his heart leaping into his throat.

"Yes, of course. He's been very worried about you."

"Are you an auror?" James asked suddenly, his voice awed.

The chief nodded. "Some dark wizards live in this neighborhood. I've been investigating them."

"So, how close did we manage to get to Diagon Alley?" Sirius asked.

The chief laughed. "Nowhere near. Did you set off trying to find it on foot?"

Sirius nodded. "A muggle man told us to take a tube."

The chief laughed again. "Not _a_ tube, _the_ tube. It's sort of like a train, only underground. Muggle use it to get around the city."

Just then the fathers arrived. James bolted toward his dad, hugging him tightly.

"I was so worried about you!" Mr. Potter was obviously trying to scold, but even so his voice was soothing.

Sirius hung back, trying to gauge Orion's mood. Orion beckoned, and Sirius came slowly, dragging his feet. When he arrived, he found himself pulled into a rough embrace. Sirius stood stiffly. He didn't think his father had ever hugged him before. After a few moments, Orion let go and glanced at Mr. Potter out of the corner of his eye. Sirius understood. He wanted Mr. Potter to know he was the sort of father who hugged his boys. His heart sank.

"Dad, the chief's an auror!" James cried, all traces of fear now gone in the excitement of the discovery.

Mr. Potter's face was grave. "Yes, I know. We need to go. We've taken up quite enough of this gentleman's time. We need to get back to Grimmauld Place and gather your things."

James paused. "But I'm not coming home until tomorrow."

"We'll discuss this later," was Mr. Potter's only reply.

Mr. Potter thanked the chief for his help, and they took a portkey back to Grimmauld Place, where they were ordered to go and gather James' things.

They were barely out the door when the shouting began.

Orion was furious that James had shattered their fountain and demanded satisfaction. Mr. Potter, for his part, was furious that the fountain had attacked James and demanded to know why Orion had such dangerous things in his home. Orion shouted that his children had been taught better than to touch things they had no business touching, and Mr. Potter shouted back that there was no reason in the world not to touch a bloody fountain. Then Orion accused James of leading Sirius into trouble and bad company, and Mr. Potter accused Orion of doing that himself. After that came a long silence, broken only when Orion said, in his soft, silky voice. "Your son is no longer welcome in my home."

Mr. Potter sighed audibly, though his answer was so soft Sirius had to strain to hear. "Your son is always welcome in mine."

"Well, he won't be going. He and James are no longer allowed to be friends."

Sirius heard himself gasp as his heart leapt into his throat.

"Don't worry, Sirius," James said softly. "He can't keep us from being friends. We're blood brothers."

"What's a blood brother?"

Sirius turned to see Regulus on the landing and groaned. This was, quite possibly, the only thing that could make the day worse.

Mr. Potter stormed out of the parlor, his face angry. When he saw the boys, he softened. "Are you packed yet?"

James shook his head.

"Well, hurry up. We need to go soon."

Regulus watched stonily as James and Sirius passed.

Sirius sat on the bed as James gathered his belongings. It was impressive how far he'd managed to scatter things in one night. James worked slowly, and as he stood with his backpack, he reached into his robes and handed Sirius his mirror. "You take it. My dad's got the other one. Call me whenever you want to... or if you need anything."

"James?" Mr. Potter said, appearing at the door. "Are you ready?"

James nodded, shouldering his pack. "Well," he said. "See you."

Mr. Potter hugged Sirius. "You're welcome to come to Potter Manor any time. Please don't forget that."

Sirius nodded, watching his best mate and his best mate's dad walk away. He hoped it wasn't for the last time.


	43. Peter: 26 August, 1972

Peter: 26 August, 1972

Florian Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor looked like heaven to Peter Pettigrew. If heaven had red and white checked floors and autographed pictures of famous witches and wizards on the walls. Peter had never much been taken out for ice cream before. There was never enough money. Or time. He recalled coming here with his aunt once, when he was young and ill. She bought him a cherry popsicle to soothe his aching throat and then took him home to tuck him into bed. Even though he really wanted grape, the popsicle was perfect to young Peter. He'd had popsicles before, of course, but this one tasted better for having been purchased just for him, sort of the way macaroni cheese always tasted better when Aunt Miriam made it for him. Peter made it for himself sometimes, using her recipe, but no matter how closely he followed the instructions written on the card in her tiny, cramped scrawl, it was never the same. Peter finally decided a few years before that Aunt Miriam's kitchen was just special. Everything always tasted better there.

Today, however, Peter sat outside Fortesque's, at a table with a large green umbrella that didn't shade him at all - James and Remus had grabbed the shaded seats - and tucked into his banana split. Yes, Peter decided. Heaven. He watched the people passing, bustling to and fro with their packages. The Marauders - and James especially - had acquired quite a few packages of their own, though their parents held onto those.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Mr. and Mrs. Lupin sat a table away. Close enough to keep an eye on them, but not so close as to be annoying. Peter's father didn't come, so he spent the night with Remus last night and came along with him. They'd had a grand time staying up all night and making far too much noise for Remus' parents' liking. They'd only gone to bed at all because they had a row. It was a small row, and not worth having, in Peter's opinion. At three in the morning, Remus said he thought it would have been brilliant if James and Sirius could have been there as well. Peter said he didn't think that would be brilliant at all. After Remus got upset, Peter tried to say that all he'd meant was that it was nice to have some time to themselves, but Remus didn't believe him, which wasn't fair, Peter thought. Even if it may have been right. When Remus woke up this morning, he pretended it had never happened, so Peter didn't say anything, but he was still feeling cross with Remus. Just thinking about it made him frown at his ice cream.

Mrs. Potter caught Peter's eye and smiled. "Enjoying your banana split?"

Peter nodded. He thought it just might have been the best thing he ever put in his mouth. He took a bite. Remus smiled at him. He smiled back. Maybe it wasn't fair to still be cross. And if he were going to be cross, he supposed it made more sense to be cross with Sirius and James. The row was about them, after all.

"Hey look! There's Sirius!" James said suddenly. He stood, waving, and shouted out Sirius' name.

Speak of the devil.

Peter looked and saw Sirius' mother and brother disappearing into Ollivander's Wand Shop. Sirius paused and looked their way. He smiled and waved and started toward them, but stopped after two steps. His smiled faded suddenly. He gave another small wave and turned to follow his family with hunched shoulders.

"What was that about?" Peter asked.

"He must want to watch his brother get a wand," Remus suggested.

"No," James said, suddenly glum. "His father says he's not allowed to be friends with us anymore."

Remus frowned deeply. "Why not?"

"Because I exploded his fountain, but I didn't mean to! It was an accident! And besides, it was trying to kill me at the time. So then we decided we were going to run away, but we got arrested when we tried to buy clothes."

"By aurors?" Peter asked, curious now. Being arrested by aurors was exciting. Especially when it had happened to someone else.

"No, by muggles."

Peter's excitement was gone as quickly as it had come. "You let yourself get arrested by muggles?"

"There wasn't much we could do about it, Pete. We're not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts."

"That never stopped you before."

"Peter!" James hissed, nudging his head toward the adults, who did not appear to be listening.

Peter turned to look at them. "What? They're not paying any attention to us."

"That's just what they want you to think," James muttered. "They're trying to lull us into a false sense of security."

"No, we're not!" Mr. Potter said.

"See!" James whispered.

Mr. Potter came over to join the boys, wedging himself in between James and Remus. "And you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened with Sirius. It wasn't your fault. It was mine. I lost my temper, I'm afraid. Nothing good ever comes of losing your temper, gentlemen."

"Do you reckon Mr. Black will ever forgive me?" James asked, his expression unsure. Peter didn't know if he'd ever seen James looking unsure before.

"I'm sure he will. And if he doesn't, he can't control what Sirius does at school."

"But I'll miss him over the holidays." James chewed on his bottom lip.

"I know. But you can send him owls, and I've been thinking. Since you accidentally left the mirror I gave you over there, perhaps I'll give you the other one, and then you can talk to one another any time you like."

James lit up. "Really? That would be brilliant! We could talk to each other when we're in separate detentions!" Mr. Potter cleared his throat, and James blushed slightly. "Which never happens. We hardly ever get detention. And certainly not often enough that they overlap. We always follow the rules. Model students, we are."

"I'm sure," Mr. Potter said with a wry look at his son. "Model trouble-making students, that is. Did I tell you I ran into Minerva McGonagall at St. Mungo's yesterday? She was visiting her sister, and she had quite a few interesting things to say."

"Oh?" James asked, feigning polite interest.

"Yes. She says she and the other staff have begin referring to you and your friends as the Hogwarts Hellions."

James held his head up proudly. He gave Peter and Remus an approving look. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"That isn't a compliment!" Mr. Potter's voice was scolding, but Peter could clearly see that he was trying not to smile. A familiar flush crept up his face as he thought about the injustice of it. James never got into trouble for anything he did.

"Sure it is!" James retorted.

"No, it isn't," Remus argued. "I don't want the professors to think I'm a hellion!"

"It doesn't really mean they think you're a hellion, Remus. It just means like us enough to give us a nickname!"

Mr. Potter laughed and mussed James' hair. "You find the silver lining in everything, don't you?"

James jerked away and began running his fingers through his hair, as though it would ever lie flat.

"Come on, you. Let's go get your robes. You're going to bankrupt me if you don't stop growing soon, you know. I think I'm going to have to put a brick on your head to get you to stop it."

James was suddenly serious. "That won't work, Dad. I'm going to be even taller than you someday. I'm already almost as tall as Mum. Do you think Lily will like me when I'm taller?"

"Of course she will," Mrs. Potter said, coming over with the Lupins. "I'm amazed she doesn't like you now."

"It's because he pulls her hair," Remus said.

"What's left of it, anyway," Peter added.

"You pull her hair?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"Well, sure," James said with a shrug. "How else will she know I'm paying attention to her."

"No, no, James," Mrs. Lupin said as they all pulled up chairs. "You're not supposed to pull her hair. You should tell her she looks nice."

"Oh, he does that, too," Remus said, dropping his head onto his mother's shoulder.

"Only she thinks he's making fun of her," Peter added.

"Why would she think that?"

"Because he makes fun of everyone," Remus said.

"Except for Sirius," Peter added. "And Remus."

"I don't make fun of her!" James said indignantly. "It's awful. She won't even give me a chance. She keeps running round with Severus Snape. Why would anyone ever want to hang around with him?"

"I'm sure you'd find he's a perfectly pleasant person if you'd only give him a chance, boys," Mr. Lupin said.

"You give him a chance," James retorted. "Only be sure to carry a flannel when you do. You'll want to wash the grease off your hands after you touch him."

"James," Mr. Potter warned.

"What? It's true? You wouldn't be telling us to be nice to him if you'd ever met him. He's foul, Dad. He's the one who broke my glasses, and he hexes me nearly every time he sees me. And he knows some really dark spells, too. I'm telling you, he's awful."

Peter looked up from his melted ice cream. A banana split was awfully big. "Hey, look! There's Sirius again!"

Sirius followed his family out of the wand shop. His little brother skipped ahead, waving his new wand. A moment later, they disappeared into Madam Malkin's.

"Dad, can't you do something?" James asked. "His family are horrid to him."

"I wish I could, but there's not much to be done, kiddo."

"But we're blood brothers!" James protested. "How are we supposed to be blood brothers if I can't even see him?"

"Blood brothers?" Mrs. Potter asked.

"I had a blood brother once," Mr. Lupin said, a fond smile on his face. "Boy by the name of Tommy Cook." Mr. Lupin let out a small laugh. "He was a muggle-born. He had to explain to me what being blood brothers meant. I haven't spoken to him in years. I wonder what he's up to these days."

"How can you not know?" James asked. "He's your blood brother!"

"Well, yes, but that was a long time ago."

"But he's your blood brother," James repeated, staring at Mr. Lupin as though he'd suddenly sprouted an extra head.

"Well, we were very good friends when we were younger, but we drifted apart. By the time we graduated from Hogwarts, we hardly spoke."

James looked stricken. "Dad, do you think that will happen to me and Sirius?"

Mr. Potter threw an arm around James. "No, I don't think that will happen. You'll go back to school and things will go back to normal."

James chewed on his lip. "But if Mr. Lupin can drift apart from his friend, how do you know Sirius won't drift apart now that he's not supposed to be friends with me. What if he decides he has to do what his parents say?"

"It would be the first time that's ever happened," Peter muttered. Honestly, he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. They could make a new friend. They could maybe even make a better friend, who wouldn't confund people or call them "Worm Guts".

"I'm sure that won't happen to you two," Mr. Lupin said quickly. "You're much better friends than Tommy and I were."

James stared after Sirius. "Dad, can we go get robes now?"

"Maybe we should go to Flourish and Blotts first."

"But I want to see Sirius."

Mr. Potter smiled sympathetically. "I know you do. But you'll see him in a few days. On the train. Now come on. Let's go get your books."

James curled his lip in disgust. "Can we go to the Magical Menagerie while you go get books? I'd like to get some cat treats for Griselda, and Hester probably needs owl treats, too. Doesn't she, Peter?"

"Not really. I've still got a few."

"But she could use some more, right?" James was giving Peter a very odd sort of look. Peter thought he might be about to sneeze.

"No, it's fine. Really. I've got enough."

James turned his whole body toward Peter, his eyes wide. "Can't you take a hint?" James said through gritted teeth.

"What hint?"

James kicked his shin. Hard.

"Ow!"

"What happened?" Mr. Potter asked.

Peter opened his mouth to tell exactly what had happened, but was silenced by another kick from James. "Nothing. I, erm, kicked the table."

"I hate it when I do that," James said with a shake of his head and a meaningful look at Peter. Peter wondered all over again how it was that the adults never managed to see anything he did. It was like they all had selective blindness or something.

"I can go with the boys to the Magical Menagerie," Mrs. Lupin offered.

"Are you sure you don't just want to go to the Menagerie so you can sneak off and see Sirius?" Mr. Potter asked pointedly.

"Of course not!" James said indignantly.

"Good. Because if you give Mrs. Lupin even the tiniest spot of trouble..."

"I won't, Dad. You worry too much."

"Can't think why," Mr. Potter mumbled as James took off toward the Magical Menagerie.

Peter still didn't understand why the party was splitting. Hester didn't need any more treats, and he didn't have any money to buy them for her anyway. And besides, he wanted to stay with Mr. Potter.

"Once we're inside, it shouldn't be too hard to lose Remus' mum," James whispered as they walked a few paces behind Mrs. Lupin.

"I don't want to lose her," Remus whispered back.

"You want to see Sirius, don't you?"

"Yes, but not like that. She'll be cross. We'll get into trouble."

"I don't see why we have to go to the Magical Menagerie anyway," Peter grumbled. "Hester doesn't need any owl treats."

"It was an excuse to get away from my parents, you dolt!"

"Don't call me a dolt!"

"Then don't act like one!"

"I'm not going," Remus hissed stubbornly. He stomped ahead to walk with his mother, never once looking back.

"You're coming with me, right Pete?" James asked, suddenly looking less sure of himself.

Peter thought about that a moment and shook his head. He couldn't see anything at all in it for him. He'd end up in trouble, just like always. And besides, Sirius probably wouldn't be glad to see him at all. Sirius would probably only insult him. He rushed ahead, too, in hopes that James wouldn't keep trying to talk him into it. He sneaked a peek over his shoulder, half expecting James to already be gone, but he was only standing still in the middle of the street, looking thoroughly dejected.

Peter tugged on the back of Remus' robes and pointed at James when Remus turned. Peter had never known him to be talked out of a plan by anyone but Sirius. And he'd certainly never seen him look so wholly defeated, except when Sirius was walking away from him the day he lost at quidditch. Perhaps James needed Sirius. Next to Peter, Remus sighed. He went back and grabbed James' arm. "Come on, James." He pulled James forward. Peter expected James to pull away or push Remus down, but instead he came, his mouth turned down in a deep frown.

"Is everything all right?" Mrs. Lupin asked when as they approached her.

"Fine," James mumbled. "Only I miss Sirius."

Mrs. Lupin clucked in sympathy. "You will see him soon, mon chéri."

"Jamie!"

James, Remus, and Peter looked up to see Sirius coming toward them, waving, a smile on his face.

James turned to Mrs. Lupin, his eyes wide. "How did you do that?"

Mrs. Lupin winked. "Magic."

"Wow!" James exclaimed. "Magic can do that? Summon a person?"

"Oh, sure," Mrs. Lupin replied. "I do it to Mr. Lupin all the time."

"Can you teach me?"

"Hmm. Well, it's rather complicated. You'll probably learn it your seventh year.

James accepted that answer and rushed over to talk to Sirius, with Remus right on his heels.

"How did you do it?" Peter asked the moment he was gone.

"I saw him coming," she replied with a wink. "Aren't you going to go say hello?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm not the one he came to talk to. He likes James and Remus better than me."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true."

Peter only shrugged. "It's okay. I like James and Remus better than him."

Before Mrs. Lupin could answer, James pulled Sirius over. Peter hated the way he was always doing that. Pulling people places whenever he got excited, assuming that everyone else wanted to do whatever he wanted to do.

"His family won't be finished getting Reg's robes for at least another hour!" James reported.

"And does your mother know you're here?" Mrs. Lupin asked.

"Not _here_ here. But she knows I'm out. I asked her if I could go to the Magical Menagerie. I want to get Regulus a pet."

"What are you going to get him?" Remus asked.

Sirius gave a small shrug. "I was thinking of getting him a frog. He doesn't really like cats, and he won't need an owl, really. The school has plenty."

Peter scowled at the slight against Hester. She was far better than a Hogwarts owl any day.

"And besides, my mother says she's going to send him a care package every day." Sirius frowned slightly.

"Really?" Peter asked. "But she never sends you anything."

Remus shot him an angry look, but Sirius only shrugged. "He's going to be in Slytherin. That's what he wants, anyway."

"Imagine _wanting_ to be in Slytherin," James muttered with a shake of his head.

"I know," Sirius replied with a sigh. "But there's nothing for it. Maybe the sorting hat will put him somewhere else. He'd make a good Ravenclaw. He's awfully bright. My mother says he's smarter than me." He looked at Mrs. Lupin. "Can they come with me to the Magical Menagerie?"

Mrs. Lupin smiled. "It just so happens that that's exactly where we were headed. Why don't you boys go on ahead, and I'll wait out here."

Remus hugged her. "Merci, maman." Then they took off running toward the pet shop.

Peter didn't much like the pet shop. He liked Hester, because she was his, but otherwise he didn't have much use for animals. James' cat very nearly drove him batty, always scratching at him and having kittens on his bed.

"My dad says Griselda's going to have kittens again soon," James said. Peter's ears perked at the word "kittens".

Sirius shook his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I told you your cat was a trollop."

James only rolled his eyes. "Cats can't be trollops, Sirius. My dad says they don't have morals. Only instincts."

"That may be so, but your cat's still a trollop."

"My dad says after she has the kittens, we're going to have her fixed."

Remus' head popped out of the tank of turtles he'd been watching. "You do know what getting her fixed means, don't you?"

James nodded. "Of course I do! It means she won't have kittens anymore."

"Well, yes, but do you know what they're going to _do_ to her?"

James paused, as if unsure he could actually admit not knowing something, and shook his head slowly.

"They're going to..." Remus broke off and whispered in James' ear.

James' eyes went wide. "They can't do that to my cat!"

"But you don't want her to keep having kittens, do you?" Peter asked, hoping beyond hope that the answer would be no. If that damned cat took up on his bed again, he was going to kill her. Well, maybe not kill her. But start dunking her in water on a daily basis at the very least. And maybe lock her in the bathroom. Maybe he'd do that anyway.

"It's better than _that_!" James cried.

"Oh, I don't know," the shopkeeper said from nearby. James and Sirius scowled at his back, irritated at being interrupted. Peter began putting all his hopes in this man. Perhaps he could talk some sense into James. Peter was not sharing his bed with kittens again. He just wouldn't.

"A cat can have more than thirty kittens in a year."

"Thirty kittens?" James repeated, incredulous. "My cat really _is_ a trollop."

"And besides, it won't hurt it. We're not like muggles. They cut their cats open."

The boys all curled their lips in disgust. "They cut them open?"

The nodded solemnly. "No better than animals, muggles. Imagine cutting a cat open."

James looked as though he were going to retort, thinking of Lily, no doubt. Before he could speak, Sirius quickly ushered him away.

"Did you hear what he said about muggles?" James asked with a frown.

"We heard, James. We were all standing there," Peter said with an edge of annoyance.

James rounded on him, but Remus stepped between them. "Let's go look at owl treats."

"I keep telling you!" Peter said with exasperation. "Hester doesn't need any treats!"

"Then let's look at toads," Sirius said with a shrug.

They made their way to the toads, but James was distracted by nearly everything along the way. "Why do you reckon we're not allowed to have rats?" "Do you think McGonagall would have a heart attack if I brought an iguana to school?" "Griselda would probably eat a tarantula if I got one, wouldn't she?" "Ooh, look at the snakes. Why would anyone want a pet snake? They're so gross the way they- BLOODY HELL! IT MOVED!" That was accompanied by flailing and running and something very like a scream, but which James would ever after insist had been a very manly sort of grunt. He would also insist that he tripped, and that was how he nearly ended up in Remus' arms.

James decided to leave the snakes and move on to the chinchillas. "What exactly _is_ a chinchilla anyway?"

"Jamie, shut up and help me pick out a toad."

James wandered away from the chinchillas, whatever they were, and over to the toads. He looked sideways at the cage. "They all look the same to me. You should get your brother an iguana."

"You're only saying that because you want an iguana. Besides, first years aren't allowed. They can only have cats, owls, or toads."

"They say that, but Amaryllis Bauknight brought a rabbit, and no one stopped her."

"Regulus wouldn't like a rabbit. He'll like a toad. He can chase girls with it, and threaten to give them warts."

Peter looked at the toads, but all he could think about was the day the Marauders had detention with Slughorn and were made to disembowl toads for an hour. James and Sirius thought it great fun. Once they were done with their first toad, James cut it open further to get a good look at its innards, saying he needed to be able to understand these things because he was going to be a healer like his dad one day. He managed to convince Slughorn to tell him what all the parts were, which took most of the rest of the detention. Sirius, on the other hand, merely mutilated his, eventually cutting the eyes out of one of the dead toads. He discovered that they bounced, and he and James spent the next week throwing the things at one another until finally, mercifully, they were both lost. Remus, on the other hand, spent the whole detention talking about how sorry he felt for the poor dead toads and how awful it must be to be made into potion ingredients, while Peter spent the hour fighting waves of nausea, particularly after he cut into one especially large toad and a million toad eggs fell out. Suddenly, Peter's mouth felt slimy, so he went to look at something else for awhile.

He ended up next to a display of puppies. Peter was not particularly fond of dogs. They were very large and very loud and very wet and very smelly and, in his experience, very poorly behaved. Aunt Miriam dated a man with a dog once, and he would constantly bring it to her house and it would lick Peter's face and hump his leg and bark when he came into a room. He hated that dog, and hated Aunt Miriam's boyfriend because of the dog.

"Interested in a dog, son?" the shopkeeper asked.

Peter shook his head. "I've already got a pet - an owl. I don't want any more."

"A person can never have too many pets," the shopkeeper replied. "And you won't find a better pet than a dog." He reached in to scratch one of the wriggling puppies. "They'll give you unconditional love, they will."

"Oh, look! Puppies!" Remus said, coming over. He reached in a picked one up. He didn't seem to mind it licking his face, because his only response was to scrunch his nose and laugh.

"What's with the one in the corner?" Sirius asked.

Most of the puppies were jumping at the sides of their glass enclosure, trying to get the Marauders to pay attention to them, but one shaggy black one, slightly larger than the rest, sat in the far corner, eying them warily.

"Not very sociable, that one. If you try to pet him, he'll run to the other side. Skittish. He wasn't always like that. When he first came, he was the happiest puppy you ever saw, but a family bought him. Brought him back a few days later with great tufts of fur missing, and he was like that. No telling what they did to him. I managed to fix him up on the outside, but I reckon it's going to take a lot of love to fix him on the inside."

Sirius frowned and started toward the puppy slowly. When he was still a few steps away, he reached out a hand and let the puppy sniff at him. The puppy reached its nose up slowly to take in this new intruder. Then it stood, let out a tiny little bark, and wagged its tail before trotting toward Sirius.

"Well I'll be," the shopkeeper said as Sirius lifted the puppy out of the box. "I've never seen him let anyone so much as touch him before, much less pick him up. You must have a very kind heart."

Sirius shrugged.

James narrowed his eyes. "What kind of heart have I got?" he asked after a long moment of rare silence.

"Huh?" Peter asked.

"Well, Remus has a pure heart because he plays with unicorns and stuff."

"I do not _play _with unicorns," Remus said indignantly.

James ignored him. "And you've got a kind heart because you can make a puppy love you. What kind of heart have I got?"

Sirius looked at him for a moment, as though thinking. "A courageous heart," he said with a decisive nod.

"An adventurous heart," Remus added.

The three of them looked at Peter expectantly. He shrugged. He'd never been good at this sort of thing. He didn't go around thinking about what sorts of hearts people had. "A heart for quidditch?" he guessed, hoping that was a good answer.

Whether it was good or not, James accepted it.

"What sort of heart have I got?" Peter asked.

The others looked at him as though sizing him up. "A proud heart, I think," James said.

Sirius agreed, looking absently at the puppy.

"You should get that puppy," James said, changing the subject before Remus could say what kind of heart he thought Peter had. Peter would have scowled except that Remus ignored James and said, "I think you've got a loyal heart." He smiled. "That's why you're my best mate." For a moment, Peter's proud, loyal heart soared. "You and James and Sirius," Remus added quickly, even though James and Sirius weren't even listening. Peter's heart fell.

"My parents would never let me get a dog," Sirius was saying. "It might make a mess or destroy an artifact or something. Can you imagine how much my mother would scream if I managed to break _two_ Black Family heirlooms in one summer?"

"What was the other one you broke?"

Sirius stared at James in disbelief. "The fountain. Remember?"

James' face fell. "You didn't break that. I did."

Sirius shrugged. "I still got blamed for it."

James bit his lip. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Not really. There was quite a lot of shouting, but then my father decided he couldn't stand to have me in his house any longer and sent me off to stay with Uncle Alphard." Sirius' mouth slipped into a sly smile. "He thinks that's a punishment, but it's been brilliant. He lives in the countryside, and he likes having me around. He never gets angry about anything, either. My parents didn't want to see me the at all for the rest of the summer, but they were afraid people might talk if Uncle Alphard and I came to get my supplies separate from the rest of the family. They're dropping me off after this, and I don't have to go back to Grimmauld Place until the night before we leave for Hogwarts." Sirius looked at the clock on the wall and put the puppy down. It whined and nosed his hand. "Sorry, boy," he said softly. "You'll find someone else who'll love you." He turned to James. "I have to go. My mum said to be back in an hour. See you all on the train. Tell your parents I said hello, Jamie." He winked and scurried out of the shop with his brother's toad. The puppy began to howl.

"Never would have thought he'd take to someone like that," the shopkeeper said with a shake of his head. "It's the strangest thing."

James went for the puppy, but it ran away. He watched it for a moment as though thinking and then jerked his head up as though he'd come to a decision. "Right. We should get back to Flourish and Blotts. Marauders, move out!"

James pointed dramatically toward the door and started toward it, as if he were a general commanding a legion of soldiers instead of a twelve-year-old ordering his mates around. Remus followed, but Peter paused, not wanting James to think he could get away with giving orders. They went out the door and Peter let out a sigh. He stood there for a few moments, feeling very strong and independent. But then he looked around and realized there was nothing to do in a pet shop for someone who didn't much like animals. He bolted out the door, hollering for James and Remus to wait, sure that they wouldn't. He knew a moment of happiness when they actually did.


	44. Remus: 1 September, 1972

Remus: 1 September, 1972

Remus felt guilty that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts.

"Tu vas me manquer, ma puce," Charlotte said with a crinkly-eyed smile.

"I'll miss you, too, maman," Remus replied as he folded up his robes. And he would. It was a strange thing. He didn't _want_ to leave his parents, exactly, but he wanted very much to be back in the castle. With his friends. It was strange to him to think that this time last year, he was convinced he wouldn't have any friends. Now he had the three best friends a person could ever want. Remus smiled, thinking about them. He'd had an owl from James just yesterday saying that his dad was letting him bring the cloak again and that he already had big plans for it. Remus couldn't wait to see what they were. James and Sirius came up with the best ideas. Remus only hoped none of their ideas would be landing them in trouble this year.

"Are you glad to go back?" Charlotte asked in French.

Remus wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to say yes, because he didn't want her to think he was glad to be leaving her and Daniel behind. "I like it there," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But I will miss you." Remus wished everyone he loved could be in the same place at the same time. Then he wouldn't have to miss anyone.

Charlotte leaned over to kiss his forehead. "You can be glad to go back and wish you could stay both. That's how I used to feel. When I was at school, I missed my family. When I was at home, I missed my friends."

Remus gave a knowing nod. That was exactly how he felt.

"Are you two ready to go?" Daniel asked, coming in with Remus' books.

Remus nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head.

Daniel smiled, handing Remus his books. "Not sure, eh? I don't blame you. I never wanted summer to end, either. I never had much patience with homework."

Remus only shrugged. He dropped the books on top of his robes. "I don't mind homework so much."

"Going to miss your old dad, then?" Daniel teased.

Remus shrugged again as he closed his trunk. "Yeah."

"You don't sound very sure about that," Daniel said with a wink.

Remus wasn't in any mood to joke. "I'll see you next week, Dad." The full moon would be in six days, after all.

Daniel's teasing smile faded, and Remus immediately wished he hadn't said that. Daniel didn't like to be reminded about the lycanthropy. He blamed himself, Remus knew, though Remus wasn't sure why. It seemed to him that the only person to blame was the werewolf who bit him. Remus thought about him sometimes. Or her. It could have been a her, for all Remus knew. Wondered if he remembered it. If he even knew what he'd done. If he'd ever forgiven himself. Remus wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if he ever bit someone. He hoped the werewolf who bit him had managed it, though. Remus didn't blame him. He hadn't been able to help it.

"Of course I'll miss you," Remus said, hoping Daniel would smile again. Remus relaxed a little when he did. Daniel reached out to ruffle Remus' hair. "Grab your trunk. It's time to be going."

"Wait a moment," Charlotte ordered. She disappeared and reappeared with a sack lunch. "I don't want you to be hungry on the train."

"Thanks, maman," Remus said, though he was sure Mrs. Potter had probably given James enough food to feed half the school. Remus picked up his trunk and took one last look around his room to make sure he had everything. He would forget something, he was sure. He always did. Charlotte asked him this morning why he waited until the last minute to pack, but Remus only shrugged. He didn't know why. He just did. If he'd forgotten anything, he couldn't think what it was. It would come to him about the time he got on the train, most likely. Remus followed his parents out the door.

Platform 9 ¾ bustled, as always. The new first years stood close to their parents, eying the whole outfit warily. Remus remembered that well from last year; how he'd stood here thinking about how much he was going to miss his parents, his entire body shaking with trepidation. He'd been terrified that he wouldn't make friends, that he'd fail everything, that someone would find out his secret. He didn't worry about that much anymore. He had been sure no one would believe that he was sick as often as he was, but the people around him seemed to take it at face value, even the Marauders, who loved a good mystery. Remus supposed he'd have done the same. Trust came much more naturally to him than suspicion.

Remus began looking for his friends the moment he hit the platform. He spotted Sirius first, standing with his mother and brother and looking very unhappy to still be there. Regulus stood close to his mother, looking around with unsure eyes. He whispered something to Sirius. Sirius whispered something back and Regulus seemed to relax a little. He gave a tiny nod.

James and Peter were already together, not far away from Sirius. Sirius kept shooting glances at them, clearly itching to be with them rather than his own family. Peter's father was deep in conversation with Abraxas Malfoy. Remus stayed with his parents, wanting to go and wanting to stay all at once. When Remus was young and first heard about Hogwarts, he couldn't fathom the thought of leaving his parents behind. He announced in the middle of tea one evening that he was going to bring them along with him. They laughed knowingly before their smiles faded. Charlotte changed the subject quickly, not wanting to tell him he probably wouldn't be allowed to go.

James caught Remus' eye and ran up to him, dragging him over to where he and Peter were. He had more boxes than he could carry piled on top of his trunk. The Potters and the Lupins met warmly. Peter's father never stepped away from his conversation with Abraxas Malfoy, though it was clear Malfoy wanted to get away. When he finally did, he made a beeline for Narcissa Black's parents. His son and Narcissa were already off to the side, standing far too close, as though they hopes to shut out the rest of the world.

Mrs. Black was clearly saying goodbye to her boys. She hugged Regulus and spoke to him. Probably warning him to be good and all of that. Parents always seemed to say that. When she had finished with Regulus, she looked at Sirius. He leaned forward slightly, a hopeful look on his face. A moment later, his face fell. Remus couldn't hear what she'd said to him, but it was clear from the look on her face - and his - that the words had been harsh.

James charged off so quickly that if Remus had blinked he'd have missed it. "Sirius! So lovely to see you!" he said loudly. "You, too, Mrs. Black!" James grabbed her hand and shook it exuberantly. "Sirius, I missed you! My parents missed you as well! They're so very fond of you, you know. You simply must come say hello. If you don't mind, of course, Mrs. Black."

Mrs. Black looked around, obviously aware that James was causing a scene. "Yes, of course," she agreed quickly.

Sirius didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his trunk and bolted, not looking back. "Well done, James," Sirius said approvingly when they stopped running.

"If she didn't give in the first time, I was going to accidentally let slip that she sent you off to live with your uncle all summer."

Sirius pursed his lips, trying not to smile. "She'd have gone mental."

James winked. "I know."

"Boys," Mrs. Potter said, clearly trying to sound stern, but only approval came out. She pulled Sirius into a tight hug. "We did miss you, my dear one."

The train whistle sounded, and the final goodbyes began. Remus hugged his parents and promised to write, telling them that he loved them and he'd miss them. He nodded dutifully when they told him to behave a work hard and be careful. By the time he finished, James was already struggling with his boxes. There were three of them. The largest one was simple cardboard. The smallest was covered in a cloth that made Remus think something must be living in there. Remus wondered if he'd bough a chinchilla just to find out what one was. The final box held Griselda, already meowing piteously at being caged in.

James handed the largest box off to Sirius. "That's for you anyway. Only don't open it until we're on the train," he said absently as he handed a smaller box to Peter. "That one's for Gretchen," he explained.

"Nothing for Lily?" Sirius asked.

James jerked his head up, his face panicked. "Do you think I should have bought something for her?"

"What is this anyway?" Peter asked, peaking under the box top. He immediately yelped and dropped the lid. The box fell from its perch, shattering when it hit the platform. A black and orange tarantula crawled out. It moved slowly, as though surprised by its sudden freedom. It didn't get far before the screaming began.

"Remus, catch it!" James cried just as it scuttled by Remus' legs.

"Why would you want to catch it?" Peter cried, louder.

Remus reached down and picked it up, its legs still wriggling in the air. He felt sorry for it for a moment; so close to freedom and everyone around it screaming. The poor thing couldn't help that it looked so frightening. Remus stroked it with one hand, hoping to calm it, as he carried it back to the terrarium that Mr. Potter was repairing.

"Why in the world would you buy your girlfriend a spider?" Sirius asked.

"Who would even want one?" Peter asked, curling his lip as he stared at it.

"Who wouldn't?" James asked, the excitement evident on his face.

Mr. Potter held the box out to Remus as another whistle sounded importantly. There was no more time for dawdling or prison breaks. Remus placed the spider in the box. "It so soft!" he exclaimed.

"Sure," Peter muttered. "Except for the fangs."

"Off you go, boys. Remus, perhaps you'd best carry this."

Remus took the box carefully. "Good lad." Remus beamed at the praise, surprised by how such a small thing could make him feel so great. He followed the Marauders onto the train. James and Sirius were already discussing what they planned to do to Snape during the feast that evening.

"I can't believe you bought your girlfriend a spider," Sirius said with a shake of his head as they situated their belongings in an empty compartment. "You don't know anything at all about girls, do you?"

"Sure I do," James said defensively. "I know they like to be told they're pretty, and they like flowers and butterflies and, you know, girly things."

"On what planet are tarantulas considered girly?" Peter asked.

"But tarantulas are brilliant. Just look at him!"

James thrust the terrarium in Peter's face. Peter cringed, cowering away. "No, thank you!"

"Oh, come on! It's just a spider!" James reached into the terrarium and pulled it out to better brandish it at his friend.

"Get it away!" Peter screeched.

James probably would have spent most of the rest of the trip chasing Peter with the spider if Sirius hadn't said, "Leave him alone, James. How would you feel if someone waved a snake around in your face."

James straightened, his face indignant. "I wouldn't care. I'm not afraid of snakes."

"Bollocks," Sirius said through a laugh. "You practically sat in Remus' lap on Saturday just because you saw one in the pet shop."

"I did not! I told you! I tripped!"

"You screamed," Remus pointed out.

"I didn't scream. It was a grunt."

"It was a scream," Sirius said, leaving no room for argument. "You screamed like a little girl."

"I did no such thing!" James yelled with a stomp of his foot.

Sirius' reply dripped with sarcasm. "Sure you didn't."

For a moment, James looked as if he were about to unleash a mighty fury. Remus sailed quickly to the rescue. "What's in the other box, James? The one you said was for Sirius?"

"Oh, right!" James said, switching gears almost immediately. Remus said a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he was so easily distracted. The box was still on the seat next to Sirius. James looked expectantly at Sirius. "Well, open it!"

Sirius pulled the top off the box. The Marauders gathered around. Peter looked up, confusion written across his face. "Is it dead?"

"No, of course not! He was scared of being in the box, so my dad stunned him." James stepped forward and put his wand in the box. "Enervate!"

The black puppy lifted his head and began to shake. Sirius lifted him out of the box, his face impassive. He put the puppy in his lap, and the puppy buried his face in Sirius' stomach.

"James! I told you my parents will never let me keep him!"

"No, it's fine," James said dismissively. "I talked to my dad. He can come home with me during the hols. We'll take care of him for you. Your parents will never have to know. I almost got him liking me. Well, he doesn't run away from me, anyway. He likes Griselda. Pity she's not too fond of him. She hisses whenever he comes round."

"I don't blame her," Peter muttered, but Remus was sure no one else heard. Once he realized what was in the box, he quickly retreated back to the seats.

"You don't like many animals, do you?" Remus asked softly, while Sirius and James were distracted with the puppy.

"I like Hester," Peter said indignantly. As if to prove his point, he stuck a finger in her cage and ran it against her head. She leaned into his touch and hooted affectionately.

"What will you name him?" James asked. "I've been calling him Padfoot, but I don't think he knows his name yet, so you can call him anything you want. My dad called him Bear. He said he'll be as big as a bear once he grows up a bit"

Sirius shrugged. "I could call him Ursa. That's the Bear Constellation."

"Wasn't Ursa a girl?" Peter asked.

"No, only one of them is a girl. The other is Arcas, a mighty hunter." Sirius lifted the puppy up. "What do you think? Are you a mighty hunter?"

The puppy wagged his tail and licked Sirius' cheek. Sirius looked up. "I think he likes it."

James reached out to touch Ursa, but the puppy shied away, burying his face once more. "Strange little thing, isn't he?"

Sirius scratched his ears. "I think he's perfect."

James changed gears quickly again, grabbing Sirius' arm to pull him out of the compartment. "Come on. Let's go give Gretchen her new present!"

Sirius allowed himself to be dragged but looked none too happy about it. Ursa followed along, grabbing at the hem of Sirius' robe with his teeth.

Remus got up to follow, but Peter did not. "Are you coming?" Remus asked at the door.

Peter shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to see the spider again."

"But don't you want to see Gretchen's reaction?"

Peter thought about it only a moment before his lip curled into a half smile, and he nodded, already halfway out the door.

The Marauders found Gretchen sharing a compartment with Lily and the Blondes. Lesley jumped up the moment she saw Sirius. "Sirius! I missed you!" she cried, throwing her arms around her neck.

Sirius endured her affections gracefully and removed her as soon as he thought it prudent. He was planning to break up with her, Remus decided. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something was different between them. Sirius made his way over to the seats. The moment he was settled, Ursa jumped into his lap. Lesley followed, sitting close to him despite a strange awkwardness that had sprung suddenly into the air between them. No one but Remus seemed to have noticed.

"Gretchen, I brought you something," James said.

Gretchen blushed and reached out for the box James handed her. She opened it and pulled out the terrarium just seconds before emitting a scream that Remus was sure could shatter glass. He felt awfully guilty for laughing as Gretchen scrambled to get away from it. He wasn't the only one. Sirius and Peter were laughing as well. Gretchen looked at them and then turned a glare on James. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"No!" James said. "I thought you'd like him. I like him."

Gretchen looked back and forth between the Marauders for a moment before she made a sound of disgust and rushed from the compartment. James chased after her, leaving the entire compartment to revel in the stillness their sudden departure made.

Lily was the one who broke the silence. "That was a mean trick."

"That's the thing," Sirius said with a chuckle. "It wasn't a trick. He really thought she'd like it. We tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen."

Lily picked up the terrarium that had fallen on its side. "Poor thing. It isn't his fault he's scary."

Remus smiled a little. That was what he thought, too! He went to sit by Lily. "Want to touch him? He's really soft."

Lily nodded, and Remus pulled the tarantula out, placing it gently in Lily's hand. "Oh, he is soft!" she exclaimed. He began to crawl up her arm and she let out a small laugh. "He's tickling me!"

James came back in, looking none too happy. He plopped down in an empty seat. "She just dumped me!"

"Bad luck," Sirius said sympathetically.

"She thinks the spider was a joke." James scowled, watching Lily. "At least someone likes him."

"He's really cool," Lily said, excitement in her eyes.

"You want him?" James asked. "You can have him if you want him."

Lily's head shot up. "Really? I can have him?"

James nodded. "Only you have to bring him to the common room and let me visit him sometimes."

"Yeah! I will!" Lily agreed quickly. "Oh, Petunia's going to scream so loud when I bring him home. Maybe I'll put him in her bed."

It was at just that moment that Snape entered. He took one look at the spider and let out a yelp. "Don't worry, Lily, I'll get it!" Snape cried, taking off a grotty shoe that looked as if it had just been pulled out of a rubbish bin. He moved in, brandishing it at the spider.

"No!" Lily cried, holding up a hand. In one neat movement, she had the spider back in the terrarium. "He's a pet. James just gave him to me."

Lily spared a smile for James, and the smile James returned was soft and shy. Nothing like his usual confident grin.

Snape looked unsure. "Potter gave you a spider? And you're happy about it?"

Lily nodded. "He was originally for Gretchen, but she didn't like him. Imagine anyone not liking him!"

Snape's only response was a grimace. It was at that moment that Remus began to wonder how Snape would react to spiders in _his_ bed. He pushed the thought away quickly. They could never do such a thing to poor Snape.

"I'm going to go show Rustom!" Lily cried, and rushed out with the terrarium.

"Rustom?" James asked.

"He's her boyfriend now. He asked her out on the platform."

"Her boyfriend?" James and Snape replied in unison.

Snape turned to James, his grimace becoming a scowl. James was unimpressed. He only rolled his eyes. "Careful, Snivelly. Your face might freeze that way."

Snape's eyes searched about for a retort, or perhaps something to throw, and landed on Remus. His scowl transformed seamlessly into a wicked grin. "Not too sick to come back to Hogwarts, then, Remus? Only some of the Slytherins were saying you'd been kicked out. Pity they were wrong."

Remus' heart skipped a beat. He felt his face grow hot. Judging from the look on Sirius' face, he saw it, too. He left Lesley and stepped forward to throw an arm around Snape.

"Listen, Sevvy. May I call you Sevvy?"

Snape's malicious grin became a scowl once more. "No."

"Oh, you prefer Snivellus then? Very well. Listen, Snivellus. This is how it's going to go. You're going to leave my friend alone, or I'm going to permanently attach that tarantula to your face. Don't forget, I'm friends with everyone. I can get the Slytherin password anytime I want."

Now it was Snape's turn to be red as a beet. Sirius let him go, and he stumbled backward out of the compartment. "Bye-bye now," Sirius said, a pleasant smile upon his face. He shut the compartment door and turned back to the others.

"Remind me never to make you angry," James said. "That was brilliant, mate!"

Sirius shrugged. "I never much cared for bullies. You ready to go back to our compartment?"

"Can I come?" Lesley asked.

"Sure, but we're going to have a farting contest. Points for stinkiness, loudness, and duration."

"And force," James added.

"And force," Sirius agreed.

Lesley decided she'd rather stay where she was.

They returned to find Dirk and Michael waiting for them, wanting to catch up after their summers. Dirk and Michael hadn't seen anyone from Hogwarts at all. They decided to stay for the farting contest, which never happened. Instead, Dirk and Michael seemed to have begun a revolving door of visitors. Second and third years who wanted to speak to James and Sirius and catch up. First years who had already heard stories and wanted to know if they were true. Fifth and sixth years who had heard they got pinched by muggle police over the summer and wanted to know if they'd managed to survive. Remus was relatively sure he entire school came by.

Even the new DADA professor, who was making the rounds, trying to meet as many students as he could. He managed to catch them in a rare moment when they were alone, and the twitch of his chin when he heard the Marauder's names led Remus to believe that their reputation must precede them. The new professor gave them a stern speech filled with veiled threats about how he wouldn't tolerate any nonsense and left as quickly as he'd come.

"Look at his arms," James whispered as the professor walked away. "Have you ever seen anyone so hairy?"

"He must be part werewolf," Peter agreed. "He's certainly foul enough."

"He isn't part werewolf. No one can be part werewolf. You're either a werewolf or your not," Remus said.

"Who made you the expert on werewolves?" Peter whispered.

"No one. You don't have to be an expert on werewolves to know that. And not all werewolves are foul."

"How do you know?" Peter asked. "Have you ever met any? They might all be foul."

"They're not," James said with his air of authority. "Don't you remember what my dad said? Werewolves are just people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Right," Sirius agreed.

"They might be foul," Peter muttered.

"You might be foul," James shot back.

"I am not!"

"You smell foul. I bet if we had that farting contest, you would win."

"I bet you would!"

"Let's find out, then. Remus, you be the judge."

The farting contest was put on hold again as Regulus came in, a frown pasted on his face. "Sirius? Can I come sit with you?"

Sirius scooted over to make space. "Of course. What's the matter?"

"I was sitting with Narcissa, but she kicked me out, and then I sat with Cauldley MacNair, but he went to sit with Nadia Dolohov, and then I didn't have anyone to sit with." Sirius chewed his lip, and Remus was reminded strongly of himself just one year before.

Regulus reached out to pat Ursa. "Whose dog?"

"James'," Sirius replied, never batting an eye. "We're about to have a farting contest. Want to join us?"

Regulus looked up, anxiety in his eyes. "A farting contest?"

"Points for stinkiness, loudness, and duration."

"And force," James corrected.

"And force," Sirius amended.

Regulus appeared to think for a moment. "Yeah, okay."

Few people came to their compartment after that, and the ones who did left quickly. Peter did indeed win, though he claimed it was a fix, even though Remus was the one awarding the points. By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Remus had his head hanging out the window as he tried not to puke.

"Sirius," Regulus whispered after they disembarked. "What if I'm not in Slytherin?"

Sirius shrugged. "You'll be happy whatever house they put you in. Maybe you can even be in Gryffindor with me."

"No!" Regulus yelped. "I don't want to be a disappointment!" Sirius' face fell. Regulus seemed to realize what he'd said a split second too late. "Sirius, I didn't mean..."

"Firs' Years!" came Hagrid's call. "Firs' Years this way!"

Regulus moved closer to Sirius, and he whispered something in his brother's ear.

"He's not half-giant," Sirius replied.

"Yes, he is," Regulus insisted. "Mother said-"

"Mother says a lot of things. Doesn't make them all true."

Regulus looked as though he wanted to retort, but he picked up his trunk instead. "See you," he whispered to Sirius.

"See you," Sirius said. "Good luck at the sorting."

Regulus nodded, squared his shoulders and went after Hagrid.

Remus hoped beyond hope that Regulus would end up anywhere but Slytherin. Sirius already had so much to worry about. He didn't need to worry about Regulus as well.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Peter asked.

"Everyone seems to be headed that way," James said, pointing off toward the front of the train.

"Let's go then," Sirius said, lifting his own trunk. He watched Regulus' retreating form for only a moment before he led the way to the front of the train.

There were carriages waiting for them, but Remus stopped short the moment he got close to them. "What are those things?" he asked, looking at the black winged horses hitched to them.

"What things?" James asked. He followed Remus' gaze and furrowed his brow. "The carriages?"

"No, the horse things."

James looked back again. "There aren't any horse things."

"Yes, there are. They're horrid!"

"Thestrals," Sirius whispered. "I've never seen one before. They're harmless. Supposed to be dead useful, but they're awfully creepy, aren't they?"

James looked at them both like they'd gone mad. Peter looked off in the distance, narrowing his eyes as though expecting to see what they were talking about at any moment. "I don't think anything's there," he finally said.

"You can't see them. Not unless you've seen someone die."

James suddenly looked interested. "You've seen someone die?"

Sirius nodded. "My great uncle Lycoris, when I was five. He was killed in a duel. We all went to watch. We thought he'd win. He didn't." Sirius shuddered. "I used to have nightmares about it. About dying in duels."

"It was my great-grandfather," Remus said softly. "I don't remember him much. I was eight, I think. I only remember him being very, very kind and very, very old. I remember thinking I'd like to be like him when I get old... If I get old," he amended. Werewolves were not known to have particularly long life spans.

"Hurry up, you lot!" someone called from one of the prefect carriages.

Remus looked around and realized the Marauders were the only ones who hadn't gone into the carriages, except for one second-year girl, a Hufflepuff called Mary, who stood off to the side, staring at the thestrals with disgust on her face.

"It's all right. They're thestrals," Remus said, going over.

The girls looked unsure, but Remus held out a hand to her and she took it. Remus remembered her from their classes, but he doubted she'd remember him. ""I can see them, too. And so can Sirius."

Mary's eyes flicked up. "I don't like them."

"They won't hurt you," Remus assured her. "They're dead useful, actually. Would you like to share our carriage?"

Mary nodded slowly.

"I'm Remus."

"I know. You're friends with James Potter and Sirius Black."

Remus nodded, feeling his face fall. Sometimes he wished he could be known for himself, and not for being their friend... though he supposed that was better than being known for being sick all time.

"I've seen you. In class. You're really smart."

Remus shrugged, but couldn't keep the smile off his face. He followed her into the compartment, and when they came over the rise, five faces looked excitedly up at Hogwarts Castle. Their second year had officially begun.

The End

* * *

_A/N: For the record, I am planning to keep this story going. Only it occurred to me that it's going to get terribly long if each year takes me forty-four chapters to write, so I'm going to break it up a bit. Keep your eyes peeled for the yet-to-be-titled Second Year Chronicles._


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